kreator

If you don't know why you would need a Mac over a PC, then you just answered your own question. Don't spend the extra cash on a MAC. A new laptop will do just fine.

No, they look alot larger in the pic than they really are simply because they are 1 1/4 in thick and the windscreen is off. They are a good 6 inches below my shoulders. Some states they can't be above your shoulders and some I think are 18 inches. They are only 2 inches taller than alot of the stock bars

I have ridden with and owned all types of bikes. Never once have I seen someone dragging a foot on the ground in a turn. The only time I have ridden to a bar is to attend a bike night and the first time I have ever heard of anyone only using the rear brake was on this site yesterday. My point is simply that if someone is a squid, they are a squid and stupid for not wearing gear and that has nothing to do with what they ride. If a Steelers QB wants to ride his busa without a helmet, how is that hurting anyone but him? I agree there are idiots on both sides, but there are good people on both sides too and stereotypes are just wrong. For every idiot you see on a HD at night revving his motor there is another one that really just enjoys riding and thinks they have something in common with everyone that rides, not just HD.

LOL, Really?

LMAO! that second one is funny as hell, those poor people.

I agree. Anything that promotes two wheels I will support.

I have worked for Nationwide for the past 14 years, I love the place! If you have any specific questions feel free to pm me.

Rip

Me too.. Best wishes dude, my prayers are with ya bud.

RIP.. Yep, you are right abotu 2 way stops. There are alot less now than there has been in the past, but they still scare the crap out of me.

Happy B-day!

Is it wrong that this makes you laugh? You have to ask? Same thing would have happend if they were on sport bikes, so stop the hating!

As I close the door to my building, the first door on the right opens up and a sailor steps out. His eye are wide, even in the dim light, as he looks at me and asks “Was that a rocket?” I look at him for a second, confused by his question. I realize he heard me shut the door. He must have thought the “bang” as the door closed sounded like an explosion. I smiled at him. “No man,” I said. “That was just the door closing.” He looked from one end of the hallway to the other before looking back to me. “OK,” he said. “Thanks.” Before I could reply he had disappeared back into his room and shut the door. I shake my head a little and laugh it off as I continue to my room. Crazy people acting jumpy. Sheesh. You’d think they’ve never been hit by indirect before. I get to my room, put on my sleeping clothes and get ready for bed. I sort of feel bad for that guy by the door and decide to go tell him it will be ok. There is no reason to be jumpy. We’ll know if we get hit because the alarm will go off. When I get down to his room the lights are off and the door is still closed. Perhaps he is alright after all. I walk back down to my room, close the door and climb into bed. It has been a long day and I just want to sleep. I lie on my back, turn off the little lamp by my bed and close my eyes. As I start to drift off to sleep, I remind myself of how much I hate this place. Boom. My eyes shoot open as I sit bolt upright in bed. What the hell was that!? I wait a few seconds but hear nothing. After twenty seconds or so, I lie back down. I laugh at myself as my heart tries to slow down after my little scare. Sheesh, I am just as jumpy as that other guy. I laugh a little again and tell myself some combat veteran I am. I roll over onto my side and close my eyes again. Boom. I sit up again! I know I heard something that time. I reach over and turn on my radio expecting to hear the COR asking for reports of the explosion. My ears are greeted with silence. I sit there with the radio cradled in my hand for at least a minute. I hear no traffic. Maybe my battery is dead. I press the talk button. “COR this is six. Radio check over.” The response is almost immediate. “Six, this is COR. Read you Lima Charlie.” Apparently the radio is not dead. I press the talk button one more time. “COR, six. Roger out.” I turn the radio off and set it back down on the shelf next to me. I am an idiot. I laugh it off again and lie back down. I close my eyes once more; exhausted and determined to get some sleep. Boom. My eyes open but I do not sit up. I begin counting. 1001, 1002, 1003……1007. Nothing. No more explosions, no alarms…. Nothing. What the hell is wrong with me? I close my eyes again. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. I pull my hands out from under the covers and place them over my ears to stop the madness. Boom. Boom. Boom. I lay there for over two hours desperately trying to fall asleep, but my ears and my pounding heart will not let me rest again. Like so many nights, I can’t fall asleep. It is just another night… in Afghanistan.

Boom. Another rocket is launched from the east. Sandage’s face drops like someone just kicked his puppy. I look at the sky and scream “YOU’VE GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” In the saddest of movies, this is where the rocket lands right on top of the characters, killing them both and ending an otherwise all around depressing story. I sit down on the ground and place my back against the tire as Sandage gets down next to me. As I wait for the round to come in, with the certainty that this is the one that is going to kill us, I just look at Sandage and mumble one more time, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Sandage shakes his head and presses his face into the dirt. I close my eyes, lean back against the tire and listen to the sound of the rocket grow louder once again. I roll over onto my chest and wait for the next explosion. I remind myself once more of how much I truly hate this place. KaWoomf!! Over the course of the next 10 minutes lights are both turned off and shot out by soldiers across the camp. The end result is what we needed. No more rockets were fired at us that night. I made my way to the JOC and then was promptly asked by everyone there “what are we going to do now?” There was no base defense plan and now they wanted me to make the decisions on what to do next. The first thing I told them was to not announce “all clear” over the big voice. “Don’t ever do that again” I told them. The Colonel simply agreed with me and told the JOC to not do it anymore. I briefed my plan to the Colonel, he agreed with it and I set out to collect up my men and begin all of the things that need to be done after an attack on the base. Several hours later we were done. At four in the morning everything I needed to do was done. The 1SG and I were headed back to our B-Hut to grab some sleep when were stopped by a leader from another unit who informed us one of our Lieutenants had been drinking. I spent the next hour and a half collecting statements about the drinking violation. US soldiers are not allowed to consume alcohol while in Iraq or Afghanistan. At 0530, I finally got to lie down. I had been awake for just over 22 hours when I finally got to lay down. Ninety minutes later, I had to get up and attend a briefing followed by a meeting about what went right and what went wrong the night of the attack. For the next twelve hours, I attended several meetings, helped devise a base defense plan and then had to brief it to the Commander and Staff that evening. After dinner, I decided I needed to go to bed early that night until he reminded me that we had a conference call meeting with Kabul in an hour. There is of course, no rest for the wicked. After a year in Afghanistan I am wicked and much worse. With sleep denied once again, I attended another meeting. When it finally ended at 2330 hours, I felt it was time for a shower. I had sweat quite a bit the night before after running around in the dark. The pipes of the shower groan again, as they did the night before, when I turn the water on for my shower. A few seconds later the water dribbles out of the spigot. It is the same “barely enough water pressure” shower I always get here in Afghanistan. I let the water run over my all-but-gone hair and reflect upon the last twenty four hours. What did I do right? What did I do wrong? As I wash the sweat from the previous night’s activities, I remember each event as best I can in order to determine what I would do differently if I had to do it all over again. As I am toweling myself off I realize how tired I am. I need sleep. A moment of pain perks me right up as my towel moves across my left knee. I look at it. As David Spade once said, “that’s gonna leave a mark.” I jokingly tell myself “chicks dig scars” and put it out of my mind. I am so tired. I just need one good night’s sleep. Those are hard to come by around here. Too many things keep you up at night. I hate this place. I walk out of the shower trailer and head towards my B-hut. The rocks push through my shower shoes and poke my feet. It hurts. I tell myself it could be worse… it could be my knee again. I don’t bother stopping. Stopping will only make it take longer to get to my room and I will still have to walk across as many rocks. My shower shoe slips on a large rock, forcing my foot forward and extending my toes out across the edge of my flip flop. My big toe slams into a sharp edged rock that decides not to move. I stop and suck air in between my teeth. OK, that hurt a little. I reach down and readjust my shower shoe and continue walking to my room. My toe is now throbbing. “Great” I tell myself. “That should really help me sleep. Man how I hate this place.

"Six, this is ECP 2.” The radio interrupts our little joke. I take a second to compose myself before responding to the call. “Go ahead” I say. Sandage shifts a little and starts checking his gear. He knows we are about to move. “Six, ECP 2. Just wanted you to know code name Mueller is back at the truck.” I start to get up as I push the radio talk button again. “Roger. Four and I are moving out of the expansion, break.” I release the button and then push it again. “Seven, four and I are headed to your location, over.” I look around me to make sure I have all my gear. I don’t see anything lying around me. “This is seven. Roger out.” I stand up and prepare to move. “Sir, do you still have my 14s?” Sandage asks. I turn around and hand them to him. “Here,” I say. “We shouldn’t need these going back to the south side.” As soon as he has them in hand, I turn and start walking towards the gate leading to the south side of camp. I walk with a long stride as we move back to the south. I want to try and stretch my leg out while I am in the dark so I won’t be walking funny when we get to the light. Sandage says nothing as he walks beside me. It takes us a few minutes to cover the distance to the south portion of the camp. As we pass the Chapel, Sandage notices some dark spots on the wall. We stop and take a closer look. They are not spots, they are holes created by shrapnel from exploding rockets. Sandage moves to the door and looks inside to make sure nobody is inside and wounded. He comes back and tells nobody is in there. I look at the holes again. Some of them are large enough to make me realize how much of a hurting they could have put on somebody if they had hit a person. Apparently God really does love the Chaplin. Sandage remarks about the same thing and I just grunt my acknowledgement. I turn and start walking towards the JOC. We get maybe twenty meters when we hear the unmistakable sound of another rocket launch. Boom. The sound resonates from the east once again. I take off running straight ahead with Sandage right on my heels. There are no bunkers and no buildings within running distance from us. The lights from south camp do not illuminate any hope of real shelter. I sprint for the nearest armored truck I can find. I think to myself that perhaps being in the dark wasn’t so bad. At least out there I couldn’t see how badly I was screwed. As we near the truck I can hear Sandage chanting behind me, “not again, not again, not again.” Unfortunately, yes again. The rocket grows louder as it gets closer to us. Sandage and I get behind the truck. There is no cover! I turn around and look at Sandage as he looks at me. In that single moment, we stare each other straight in the eye with full understanding between us without a single word being spoken. “Oh shit!” We drop to the ground as the sound of the rocket’s motors grows loud. I pull my left arm up to my face to cover my eyes and one ear. I ask myself how many times I have to go through this. There is a sputter in the sound of the rocket and then silence. Is this the one? Kawoomf!! I hear the explosion directly to the east of me. I get up from behind the truck and look to the east for signs of the blast. I look angrily for the smoke. I am raging now. I am tired of this shit. I am sick of these bastards trying to kill me and I can’t even see them or fight back. You would think with all this damn light I would at least be able to see SOMETHING! The light! That’s it! It’s the damn light! I snatch the radio off my vest and put it to my mouth. “Seven, this is six.” It takes a few seconds before the 1SG responds, but he does. “Go ahead six.” I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before! I am sooo stupid! I should be mad at myself more than anyone else. “Seven, tell them to turn the fucking lights off!” I look over at the water tower and communication towers with lights all over them. In the distance I can see the flag pole with a damn spotlight shining into the night sky. “Turn the damn lights off. We have the biggest fucking TRP (Target reference Point) in all of Afghanistan right here. They’ll stop firing if they can’t see us!” How stupid I am. How stupid we were! When I was in eastern Afghanistan, every base was a “blackout” base. There were not external lights at night. All they did was make it easy for the enemy to see where you were AND make it easy to adjust his aim if he was off a bit. On a blackout base, you can’t see where your rounds are landing and you can’t see your enemy’s reaction. That makes them hard to hit and risky to stick around too long. I stare at the radio getting angrier by the second. What the hell is so hard to understand about “turn the damn lights off?” I press the talk button again. “Seven, this is six. Did you copy my last?” There is no delay this time. “Six, roger. They’re trying to figure out how to do that now.” I don’t know what to say. I look at Sandage and my mouth must have been able to catch a thousand flies at once. Sandage just grunts. “Well that’s fucking stupid. How do you not know how to turn the lights off?” I don’t even know what to say. I just look at him and shrug my soldiers.

We sit there for a few minutes catching our breath. The radio comes to life as it hangs from my body armor. “Six, this is ECP 2, over.” Damn it. Two rounds have come in and I forgot that my soldier at ECP 2 is all alone. I move my hand to the radio and push the talk button as I lean over a little to talk into the radio. “Go ahead” I say. I can hear the soldier on the other end sound relieved as he continues the conversation. “Six, is code name Mueller still with you?” He is checking to make sure his partner is OK. It makes me feel good to know my soldiers are looking out for each other. My mind reflectively asks myself why I am trying to get them killed. “Yes, he is with me,” I say into the radio. “He is on his way back to you now. He’ll be coming up the west wall.” I turn to look at Mueller as I hear “Roger six. ECP 2 out.” come over the radio. Before I can say anything the radio cackles again. “Six this is seven.” It’s the First Sergeant (1SG). “Go ahead seven” I reply. “Six, the JOC (Joint Operations Center) wants you to move up here as soon as you can’ over.” The 1SG is at the JOC. I grin. The 1SG is following the old plan as well. It makes me feel good to know my men are acting on their training even in the absence of a plan. “Roger. Tell them I’ll get there as soon as I can. I am still in the northern expanse.” It will take me several minutes to get there even if we don’t receive any more rockets. “Roger six. They copy direct. Seven out.” I look up at Mueller. “Mueller, I want you to move back the way we came to the wall. Once you get there, move along the wall back to the vehicle. Don’t stop for shit! If you hear incoming, you get the fuck down next to the wall and don’t move until you’re sure there isn’t anything flying through the air. When you get to the truck, call me and let me know you’re safe. Got it?” I can see him nod in the dark. “Got it, sir.” He turns and runs off into the darkness at a steady, methodical pace. I push myself up off the gravel with my hands and flex my left leg. It is sore and stiff but I can still make it move. “You sure you are OK sir?” I can hear the concern in Sandage’s voice. He can’t see my leg, so I know he doesn’t know what is wrong with it yet. I am thankful for the darkness. If my leg looks half as bad as it feels, he would probably be trying to put a bandage on it right now. He has always made it his mission, as my supply sergeant, to take care of me. He is a good soldier and I am glad to have him out here with me. If I can just keep from getting us killed, we’ll be alright. I shake my head back and forth. If I don’t get us killed we’ll be alright? Of course we’ll be alright if we don’t get killed what kind of stupid thought was that? I jokingly wonder how much blood I have lost. “You’re not OK?” Sandage asks me. He must have seen me shake my head. “No, I am fine” I reply. “I was just thinking of something else.” I cock my head over a bit and look at Sandage. “Why are you asking me if I am ok? Are you afraid you’re going to have to carry my fat ass somewhere all by yourself?” Sandage starts laughing. “No sir,” he says. “I just wanted to make sure you were OK. If you need me to carry you, you know I’ll do it in a heartbeat.” I look him straight at him and quip, “Don’t you touch me chucklehead. I told you, I already have a date to the prom.” Sandage starts laughing as hard as he was earlier and I can’t help but laugh at myself.

Boom. The report of another rocket launch echoes in the distance. “Fuck!” Sandage says as he runs past me. “GO, GO, GO!” I yell as I start running to the container behind Mueller. I have no doubt that I don’t need to tell my men to move faster, but at least I FEEL like I am doing something. There is no fighting back against indirect fire. Giving some type of order at least makes me feel a little better. There is little comfort in that if we get hit though. As I run as hard as I can towards the container, the first feelings of failing and hopelessness start to creep into the back of my mind. As the dark shape of the container grows larger in front of me, I ask myself “How many times am I going to have to do this? When will this end? How much of this crap will we have to endure before we eventually get killed?” The sound of the rocket motors descending on us drowns out my thoughts. I still have 5 meters to go when Sandage and then Mueller leap towards the base of the container. I am not going to make it! I leap forward and put my left knee out to catch myself as I try to slide up to the container, moving both forward and down at the same time. It isn’t until my knee hits the gravel at the speed of a dead sprint that I remember I do not have pants on. The first rocks jabs directly into my kneecap while the rest of gravel seemingly leap from the ground to attack my skin. As my body weight and the weight of my armor grind me into the gravel I howl in pain. The pain of the flesh being torn off my leg is replaced by the impact of my shoulder slamming into the container. KaWOOMF!! The ground shakes the container as the blast from the rocket washes over us. “MOTHER FUCKER!” I hear Mueller scream from behind me. I am turned away from both Sandage and Mueller. I want to scream too. My knee feels like someone just rammed a thousand needles into it and then just pulled everything out. I start laughing. I laugh almost uncontrollably hard. Sandage starts laughing too. I have no idea why. Mueller get up on his knees as I roll over to face them. “What the fuck is so funny?” he demands. Sandage and I just continue to laugh. There isn’t anything funny. That’s the joke. I am laughing to keep from crying from the pain of my shredded knee. At that moment I remember a time when somebody told me I didn’t know what hard work was, because I worked in a cubicle. Now that’s funny. I tell myself I wish that guy were here. I’d show him what a hard day at the office was like. As I keep laughing I realize that if he were here right now, I’d probably just punch him in the face. I look up at Mueller who is looking down at Sandage and I as if we were insane. I stop laughing. We are insane. What other answer could there be for why we are here playing catch with 107mm rockets. I look at Mueller. He’s looking for something to make sense. He’s scared like the rest of us and he just wants something to hold on to. “Whoooweeee!” I say. “These mother fuckers sure do want to play tonight, don’t they?” Mueller looks at me and grins a little. This is what he needs. “Don’t worry,” I continue. “They’re gonna have to do a better job than this if they want to get in here and get a piece of us.” Mueller nods his head. “Hell ya, sir,” is his only response. I continue to look at Mueller and Sandage. I don’t want to look at my knee. “You guys OK?” I ask. They both tell me they’re fine. I straighten my left leg out and bite down on the chin strap of my helmet to stifle a cry of pain. As I rest my head against the container after moving my leg, I tell myself two out of three isn’t bad.

Boom. The sound comes to me as my left foot hits the ground. I recognize instantly what I just heard and at the same moment turn around towards my men. “WALL, WALL, WALL!” I scream as I start running. My right hands grips my rifle as my left arm raises to grab Sandage by his body armor. Sandage and Mueller turn around and start running as I continue to yell “get to the wall!” My left arm pushes Sandage ahead of me as my feet dig into the gravel and my legs pump hard to propel me towards possible safety. The sound of the rocket as it streaks towards us grows louder. I am hoping that the rocket goes long like the last one did. If it does, that will put the Hesco wall between us and the blast. If it doesn’t, there isn’t going to be a damn thing between us and the explosion. If the impact and blast don’t kill us, hundreds of jagged pieces of metal will fly out of the crater and try to finish the job. All of these thoughts race through my mind as the increasing sound of the incoming rocket raises the level of my fear. The rocket sounds like it is right behind us. “Down, GET DOWN!” I yell at the top of my lungs but I can’t hear myself over the blood pounding in my ears. I see Mueller dive towards the wall with Sandage right behind him as I leave my feet and dive towards the base of the wall. I feel no joy in being right earlier when I said they were going to hit us again. That is my last thought as the rocket impacts behind us. KaWhoomf!! I hear the explosion behind me as I crash into the ground. My momentum causes me to roll on top of Sandage. Like a turtle on his back, I try to move myself off of Sandage. The blast came from behind us, maybe 200 meters. One in seven rockets going long are not good odds for our current position. I push myself up onto one knee and look back out towards the center of the expansion. We need to find better cover right now. I see some containers about 100 meters away. If we can get behind those, we’ll have some cover from blasts to the east, where the rockets are coming from, and a wall to our west 100 meters away. The rocket would have to land between them to have a good shot at hitting us. I stand up and groan as my knee tells me it is quickly tiring of all this abuse. “Get up! Get up damnit! We gotta move right fucking now!” My words are harsh but there is no anger in them. I have found that men simply move with a purpose when swearing is used. That and 107mm rockets looking for you in the night are all the motivation most soldiers need to find reason to move someplace else. “Come on, let’s go!” Sandage springs to his feet and Mueller is only seconds behind. As soon as I see them get up, I turn and start running towards the containers. All I can hear are my heart pounding in my chest and the crunch of gravel under my feet. I am not even sure I am breathing any more. I turn to see if my men are following me. Over my shoulder I see Sandage right behind me with Mueller hot on his heels. About twenty meters from the containers I move to the right a little, slow my pace, look back at Sandage and point to the containers. “There,” I say. “We need to move there.”

As Sandage and I walk up to the vehicle at the gate I see one of my soldiers in the turret of the vehicle manning a 240B medium machine gun and the other on the ground near the front of the vehicle. I call out a greeting as we get about thirty meters from the truck. The soldier on the ground calls back, “hiya sir.” At least they seem to be in good spirits, I note. As I walk up to the vehicle I recognize Private First Class (PFC Mueller.) I ask him how they are doing. He tells me they were a little shaken by how close some of them landed but they were OK. I ask him if he saw any of the impacts and he tells me yes. He points to a location on each of the northern and western walls. “I think a rocket hit each of the walls, sir. From the truck it looked like they were hit.” I nod my head in understanding even though I know PFC Mueller can’t see me. I need to know if there is a breach in either of the walls. If there is, I need to move some men up here to cover the breaches and prevent anyone from gaining access to the camp. “Let’s go see if we have a problem” I say. “Mueller, show me where you think it hit.” He calls up to his companion manning the machine gun that he will be away for a minute and then turns and bounds ahead of me. Sandage and I turn to follow him as we walk along the northern wall. We walk along the wall for several minutes but do not see any damage to the wall. In the dark and using the night vision, the only way to determine possible impact sights is by looking for dark patches in the otherwise light colored gravel. With all of the construction going on recently, a lot of dirt has been spilled and moved over the rock causing us to look in the dark at areas we would not even normally give a second glance to in the daylight. After a few more minutes I determine nothing actually hit the wall and breached it. If the rocket hit inside the wall, that was fine as long as it exploded. I didn’t want to find an unexploded rocket lying on the ground. Tripping over one of those in the dark would result in an absolute “no me gusta” moment. I call out to both Sandage and Mueller that we need to go check the western wall. We stumble across some construction equipment lying on the ground and have to slow the pace down quite a bit as we make our way through the little “mine field” of dangers. I shake my head as I think about surviving a rocket attack only to be killed a short while later by tripping in the dark and being impaled by a pick-axe on the ground. We make it through the equipment on the ground and start walking along the western wall. We stop several times to inspect dark images that turn out to be nothing more than excess dirt piles. It takes us a few minutes to make it three quarters of the way down wall before we stop. “Are you sure you saw it hit the wall?” I ask Mueller. He tells me he’s not sure about this wall. They only caught a glimpse of it through the vehicle window and in the dark it was difficult to judge the distance. I understand that completely. It is difficult to judge anything in the dark. I scan around again with the night vision looking for some clue or evidence of an explosion. I notice a dark spot in the gravel about 30 meters away. “Over here” I call out and start heading that way. Sandage and Mueller follow me across the gravel. As I get closer, the image starts to become clearer and begins to look promising.

He doesn’t understand my frustration at first. “They just announced the all clear over the Big Voice,” I say. “Every Haji within 2 miles just heard that. All they have to do now is wait a few minutes until everyone gets out of the bunkers and then launch another attack because they KNOW they will catch us out in the open.” I walk around the barrier at the entrance to the bunker and turn around to look back at Sandage. “Fucking amateurs,” I holler. “You watch Sandage. We’re going to get hit again tonight because of that mistake. Mark my words.” I turn around and start walking away from the bunker. I’ve already made up my mind to walk into the expansion to check and see if there has been a breach in one of the two exterior walls. Sandage jogs up next to me and falls into step as we move to the same location we were headed. “Well sir,” he says as he starts walking next to me. “What else do you expect from people who clearly don’t know what they are doing?” I don’t answer SSG Sandage. I just keep walking towards the opening to the north expansion where I almost got Sandage and I got killed. “People who don’t know what they are doing” have been the problem with this deployment from the beginning. I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me back there, but the frustration and disgust I feel towards my own leaders coupled with the deaths of two of my men have left me with almost no control of my anger. I can’t express it to my men because it would be demoralizing to them if their leader has lost confidence or hope. I can’t express my disgust up the chain because they are not within earshot. Quite frankly I don’t believe they even care. This leaves me alone; raging in my own dark sea of hatred. Perhaps I just don’t want to admit to myself that I am angry at myself for almost getting Sandage killed as well. I stew on this as Sandage and I make the turn into the northern expansion. “Sandage,” I say as enter the expanse. “Do you have your 14’s on you?” I am referring to his PVS-14 night vision device. “Yes sir” he replies as he digs into one of his pouches and hands them to me. As we turned the corner into the expanse, the Hesco wall is between us and the lights on the south side. It is pitch black with very little star light and almost no moon. I turn the night vision goggles (NVGs) on and put them to my right eye. The black veil of night is lifted as all of her secrets are revealed to me in grainy, green detail. I scan along the eastern wall of the expanse looking for dark splotches along the wall that would indicate damage to the Hesco barriers. After several seconds I pull the NVGs down from my eye and tell Sandage we need to head to the northern wall. I pull out my radio and call the men at the NW corner that Sandage and I are headed their way from the south. I don’t want to be mistakenly shot by one of my own men in the dark. When we arrive at the center of the expanse we stop as I use the NVGs again to scan along the northeastern corner of the expanse. After seeing no apparent damage along that portion of the wall, Sandage and I begin walking to the gate at the northwest corner where two of my men are.

My sentence is punctuated by the sound of another muffled boom from the east. “Damn,” escapes my lips at the same time Sandage mutters “shit!” We must have been thinking the same thing. It had been several minutes since the last rocket launch. We had both been silently hoping the attack was over. We drop down to the ground in near unison and try to get flat on the ground. I am sure an outsider looking down at Sandage and I would find our contorted forms lying in the gravel very amusing. The ammunition pouches, first aid pouches, knives, flashlights and miscellaneous “Gucci gear” attached to our body armor makes lying flat impossible. I don’t find it amusing. I find it incredibly uncomfortable. Sandage and I are lying in the rocks looking at one another as the rocket approaches us. Thoughts tumble through my head and one sticks out in particular. An old catch phrase of “where else would you rather be?” I let out a hard sigh in to the rock. The answer to that question is simple… any fucking place but here. The rocket motor’s pitch starts to rise and I close my eyes. Here we go again. This one doesn’t get near as loud as the others did before I hear it over head. I smile. “This one is going long” I call out to the rest of the men in bunker. A few seconds later there is an explosion to the west of us. I figure it was at least 200 meters away. Sandage opens his eyes as I call out the “long shot.” He sits up, as I do, after the explosion and tells me he likes those kind of incoming better than the others. I toss out a quick “ya, me too” as I stand up again. My right knee is throbbing and my left knee is burning. I tell myself I am “too old for this shit.” In my own defense, however, I remind myself that even a 21 year old probably wouldn’t be suffering a bit after having one knee slide through rock and the other one tackled by a grown man. Stalemate!? I wonder to myself what kind of an idiot loses an argument with himself. Before I finish the thought, I already know the answer. An idiot in denial… that’s who. As I stand there silently with Sandage, I am thankful for the darkness. I don’t want to look at my knees and I don’t want Sandage to see that I am in pain. I can hide my contorted face and at least sound confident and in control with my voice. I make a mental note of how pathetic that is. The last rocket was long, unlike all of the ones before it. I figure they were probably not taking much time on aiming that one as they started to move away from the area. You can only keep firing at someone for so long before they figure out where you are and start firing back. The US Military has longer and more accurate reach than anything the Taliban have. Staying in only place too long is a death sentence for them. This is a lesson they have learned well. There are no more rockets as we stay in the bunker for about ten more minutes. The soldiers in the bunker pass the time with small talk while Sandage and I wonder how everyone else on the camp is doing. I am in contact with some of my men on the radio, but I have not heard from my First Sergeant yet. I find that to be odd and out of character for him. I hope he is OK. I hope all of my men are OK. The sound of the “Big Voice” puts an end to all of my thoughts. “ALL CLEAR, ALL CLEAR, ALL CLEAR” comes across the camp public address system loud and clear. I let out an exasperated groan and shout “You gotta be fuckING KIDDING ME!” The end of my cry is more anger than exasperation. Sandage looks at me and asks me what’s wrong. He is happy that the all clear has been given, as are all the others still inside the bunker.

There is a heavy silence in the bunker now. The brief laughter and chuckles have subsided. Each man strains to listen for the next muffled boom signaling the approach of a possible death. After several minutes of listening, there is no indication of another launch. Small talk about the attack starts between the soldiers in the bunkers. Several soldiers speculate on who is responsible for the attack. Others start asking when the last time an attack happened in an effort to apply reason to what happened. Sandage and I stand at the entrance of the bunker looking over the barrier to see if anyone is coming. I drown out the conversation with my own thoughts. I am already sure of who is responsible for the attacks based on the intelligence reports I have heard over the last three days. I don’t care when the last attack was. The only one that matters is the one happening right now. I don’t want to be killed only a few weeks before I go home. But I know that is not what I fear most. What I fear most, is having to watch another one of my men loaded onto an aircraft in a coffin. I would kill every Afghan in this country to not have to do that again. I hear the crunching of rocks under someone’s feet from the same direction the Chaplain had come from. I ask Sandage if he can hear it and he says yes, but he can’t see anyone. A few seconds later I see the form of a man step out from behind one of the armored HUMVEEs. The lights from the southern part of the camp silhouette him and I can tell he seems to be lost. He is looking northeast and with the lights behind him, he can’t see very well. I call out to him and let him know there is a bunker here. He starts trotting over towards us. “Where are you,” he calls out. I tell him to follow the sound of my voice and guide him to the bunker. When he gets to us, I see that he is in civilian clothes. He is a US contractor. I don’t find it hard to believe that he didn’t know where the bunkers were located. In our drills out east, the contractors chose not to participate in almost all of the drills. He passes between Sandage and I as he enters the bunker. He mutters a quick thank you and disappears behind us into the concrete bunker. “Do you think there are others out there not in a bunker sir?” Sandage’s question pulls me back from my own thoughts. “I am sure there are,” I reply. “I just hope they find something to get behind of get under.”

The following is the last portion of "Just another night" Written by Doyle bedwell, If you have not read the first portion please go back to my "Notes" and read the first portion. Doyle I'd like to thank you for finishing this wonderfully written account of this night. and I wish to share the ending with all of you who have so patiently waited for it. Thanks Karie for letting me copy your note and make it easier for me to share it with the people on Ohio-riders. ... I swing my arm up and over my face. I don’t have any eye protection on and want to cover my eyes from any possible flying debris. KaWoomf!! The explosion rips through the night air but is slightly less loud than the previous explosion. The rocket impacts about 75 meters north-west of us. The Chaplain is alive. God must not hate us after all. Maybe he is just toying with us. I can never tell the difference. I start to pick myself up off the ground and look at the dust as it starts to settle from the explosion. Judging from the sound of the blast and the direction of the dust, I determine it did not land anywhere near my guys to the north. As I stand up, I can feel my right knee stiffen when I put a little weight on it. It is throbbing like hell. I look down at it, straining to see over the ammunition pouches attached to the front of my body armor. I bend over to get a better look. The weight shifts on my shoulders causing my hamstrings to tighten as they try to maintain my balance for me. It is too much for my knee and I have to pick my right leg up off the ground. This causes me to lose my balance, so I reach out to the barrier in front of me and grab hold as my body starts to fall forward. I can’t see my knee in the dark, but I know it isn’t right. Sandage sees me fall forward and asks me if I am ok. With a half-hearted chuckle I tell him I am fine. “Everyone OK?” Someone in the bunker is checking on everyone. Several men grunt their “ok” and “fine” back to the soldier. The Chaplain duck walks over to me and tells me he is sorry for running into me. He then asks me if I am OK. I tell him I am fine. I will probably go to Hell for a lot of things, so I don’t think much about lying to the Chaplain. He’ll forgive me that one transgression, but I am sure I am running out of “do-over’s” with a man of God. I ask him if he is ok and he tells me yes. “Although,” he says, “I am not sure which is worse… being attacked by rockets or diving into a naked man’s lap to avoid the incoming.” I smile broadly. “Get a face full of Italian sausage, did ya?” Both the Chaplain and SSG Sandage start laughing pretty hard. Funny moment number three. Unlike in the movies, where the action hero spouts off one-liners in a calm and dignified manner, ours are filled with fear. There are no heroes here… just scared men. For all of us that have been through it before, it is a reminder of the true dangers of being here. For the first timers, it is a real eye opener about the difference between watching it in a movie and actually being on the receiving end of someone’s intent to kill you.