Dispatches from the Field
I have gone through half a large bag of sunflower seeds and I still have more than twenty hours left in this field operation. Handful after handfuls of sunflower seeds disappear into my mouth as I sit, bored, while manning the radio. The radio emitted short bursts of message traffic between the COC and the road guards, barely audible from the mechanical growl of the military trucks and the sound of fighter planes flying overhead.
All around me are sleeping marines, exhausted less from actual toil and more from the oppressive heat and, not the norm in this desert clime we grudgingly acclimated to, humidity. The weather has been comparatively gentle and training will be mercifully short. Only forty-eight hours stands between me and civilization, and I am already past its halfway mark. A hot shower and my soft pillow awaits me back in garrison.
