Yesterday… I was walking patrol with Travis and some locals. Locals had been hit three times in less than a week. They were jumpy.
Someone was having a gunfight in the distance.
I heard a “Snake” coming in fangs out — low and fast.
Six must have called in air assets.
Fish heads were probably already inside the wire.
I heard her making that distinctive “whoopp whoopp whoop” of a hard return to target and knew they were about to put fire right on top of us… Commo down for 20 mikes.
Travis and I were separated from the team and had no idea where Six was. We started taking heavy fire from our left flank. We were screwed!
I headed for cover and lost sight of Travis, I think he went down.
I hoped he was just taking cover. I took up a firing position and waited…
THEN THEY CAME!
And I saw the look of concern on the old woman’s face; gazing in at me…
through the cases of paper towels,
past my bunker barricade of rolls, on into my hole…
as I frantically tried to figure out how I’d lost my weapon.
Then the realization that I was still at Walmart in Lodi California.
It seems Walmart has a ventilation fan that sounds much like a Cobra gunship in a turn if you just happen to stop directly below it to get your paper towels.
I guess I’m fortunate she didn’t call security.
I almost think she understood. — DO YOU?
This is PTSD.
Some of us ruck up and hump it every day (or night) and some of us give up and become a statistic. Don’t let your Warrior become a statistic.
SGT. U.S. Army
This first appeared in The Havok Journal on February 25, 2015.
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