National Training Center - Fort Irwin, California

I asked Jackson for a smoke
He threw me a Newport
And looked at his compass.
We were eating C rats
At high noon
In the desert
Next to a broken half track.
"I hate this shit." Washington said.
“What do you think happened to the half track?”
“It’s probably out of gas.”
“Who cares, it’s shade.”
“Maybe it’s a trap.”
“All of it. The motherfuckin’ desert,” Washington said.
Murphy smiled.
“Yeah it sucks. But it has its moments. Check out that cool cloud. It looks like a pussy.”
“You’re psycho, you enjoy this shit.”
“Sometimes.”
“You’re going to get someone killed.”
“He probably already has.”
“Well if it’s between you and me,” Washington said.
Murphy laughed.
“Hey boys you’re on the same side,” Sergeant Dewberry said, “Try and act like it.”
“For now Sarge,” Murphy said.
“You got that right,” Washington grinned.
Murphy pointed his M-16 at Washington’s chest and pulled the trigger.
“You’re fake dead, you fucking chickenshit,” Murphy said. “Any one got a light?”
“Goddamn Murphy,” Sergeant Dewberry said.
“It’s just a blank.”
I tossed him my Zippo.
"Thanks man."
"We have to move, we're sitting ducks here." Sergeant Dewberry said.
"So what. This ain't real and it's fucking hot."
"It's real enough." Murphy said.