I awake again on my own in the morning. I still miss, still a little bit, Shack waking me each morning. Shack is still snoring beside me in his bedroll. Damn, this morning is chilly! I loathe the idea of getting out of my warm bedroll. My discussion with Doc Jamal the other night about the approaching nuclear winter was enlightening.

            Previous generations of nuclear weapons focused more on ground-level explosions. The more modern nuclear weapons, such as those used against the zombies, including several neutron bombs, are of the more modern variety that focus on an air burst.

            Other than the neutron bombs, which were supposedly banned by international treaty, most of the nuclear weapons were air burst detonation around 5,000 feet altitude. The Turks, Indians and Pakistanis used some old 203mm nuclear shells fired from ancient M110 self-propelled howitzers. Those older shells were probably ground-effect nukes.

Most countries used the nukes in remote areas or far out at sea. Only the Chinese, Pakistanis, and Indians used nukes in heavily populated areas. I suppose a zombie apocalypse is a good time to settle long-standing grudges with your neighbors.

The brief three-way nuke exchange between India, Pakistan and Turkey immolated some 12 million people. I never heard the estimated death numbers from the brief nuke exchange between Taiwan and China.

Reminds me of what Chairman Mao said about his country being able to sustain horrendous losses of people because there were so many Chinese. You could kill 700 million Chinese, and Mao would still have 400 million. China could suffer personnel losses that no other country could sustain.

The huge Chinese population worked against them in the KCAP outbreak. Densely populated large urban areas are the perfect breeding ground for KCAP. Through the large, densely populated Chinese urban areas, KCAP spread like no other contagion before it.

The incredible spread of the contagion later identified as KCAP terrified Chinese officials. Drastic measures taken by the Chinese government, including whole scale carpet bombing, actually slowed the spread of KCAP.

Once the KCAP pandemic reached a tipping point, not even whole scale carpet bombing and thermobaric weapons was enough to slow the zombie invasion. Zombie-laden ships at sea, sunk with conventional ordnance, and caused the zombies, not crushed by the depth of water, to walk calmly out of the ocean.

Thousands of water-logged zombies walking ashore in southern France caused a worldwide major panic. The Mediterranean quickly became a zombie-infested puddle in a matter of days.

Thousands of zombies walking out of the surf in California sent panic through the US government. Countries with long range ship-borne nuclear anti-ship missiles such as the US, Russia, China, North and South Korea, Taiwan, France, the UK, Iran, and Israel navies all used nuclear anti-ship missiles to sink zombie infested ships.

Taiwan revealed it possessed Russian-made, nuclear-armed Sunburn sub-launched missiles. By sinking several zombie-laden ships in its territorial waters, Taiwan displayed the nuke Sunburns and a homemade, nuclear-armed clone variant of the US Harpoon anti-ship missile.

China rattled by Taiwan's display of submarine-launched nukes, launched a brief nuke attack against Taiwan. A brief nuclear exchange between Taiwan and China resulted in minor damage to China, but the complete obliteration of Taiwan. Those who could leave the island abandoned Taiwan, which was now a zombie-infested radioactive wasteland.

Another shocker to China and the Western world at large was Taiwan's possessing supercavitating, nuclear-tipped torpedoes. Taiwan, before China nuked it off the face of the earth, sank a few Chinese warships using both ship-launched and sub-launched nuclear anti-ship missiles.

Losing the ROCS Fortuitous Strike, the less than one-year-old, first Chinese nuclear super aircraft carrier, must have been a very bitter pill for China to swallow. There were unconfirmed rumors that Taiwanese attack submarines, not content with sinking China's only supercarrier, also sank several Chinese ballistic missile submarines.

Iran displaying the fact that it was nuclear armed was a real shocker in the Middle East. While I was proud that there was no infighting within the Middle East like there was in Asia, it was probably only because of the zombie plague.

Reports showed the first major shambling hordes of undead appeared in southern China. Some of the Chinese hordes of shambling undead were so large you could supposedly see them from space. The Chinese, towards the end, attempted to curtail the zombies by using the vast majority of their nukes in remote areas.

Once reports of the huge Chinese zombie hordes leaked out to the Western world, China took quick, decisive action and dropped nukes on the hordes. China criticized the West as lacking the moral fortitude to do what was necessary to curtail the infection.

It was towards the very bitter end, after the massive zombie hordes appeared, that the Chinese started nuking major cities. Chinese nukes incinerated Shanghai and Singapore (not Chinese, but my guess is they felt it was close enough).

Mobile land-based launching platforms fired most of the Chinese nukes. According to early reports, only a few ballistic missile submarines fired Chinese nukes. The rapid ability of the Chinese to gain and hit new nuclear targets sent ripples through the Western world, which realized, belatedly, that they had seriously underestimated the effectiveness of China's nuclear arsenal.

There were some unconfirmed reports of the use of several bunker-busting Chinese clones of the US B61-11D RNEP (Robust Nuclear Earth Penetrator). Why the Chinese would use several RNEPs fired from ballistic missile subs against some of their military bunkers is a mystery.

Some felt there was an attempt at a coup within the Chinese government; others felt that perhaps the bunkers were infected with KCAP. Whatever the reasons, the Chinese, Turks, Indians, and Pakistanis not only used the most nuclear weapons, but are also the only ones to use them on major cities.

The US, France, Russia and China were the only ones to use neutron bombs. After World War 2, America vowed never again to use a nuclear weapon in a preemptive strike. The US kept that promise, only using nukes towards the very end, and only at sea.

In dropping nuclear bombs on zombie-laden ships and grounded aircraft, the US probably saved themselves a lot of misery. By neutron bombing most of the eastern seaboard, the US decimated the number of infected people entering their territory. When the few vehicles reached US territory, the radiation killed the vast majority of the passengers, zombie or otherwise.

Even with an air burst nuke, modern cities contain so much heavy material resistant to nuclear decimation. When they bombed Nagasaki and Hiroshima, lightweight materials mainly comprised the buildings. Most of the material instantly incinerated in the bomb's blast.

A modern nuke bomb detonated in a modern city throws so much more debris into the air. With many heavy buildings and so much more combustible material, a modern city, hit even with a high-level nuke air explosion, releases an incredible amount of radiated material.

Doc Jamal does not think the fallout in the clouds is enough to cause mutations and such like you used to see in the old movies. There is certainly enough crap up there, he thinks though, to cause some health concerns, especially when the radioactive shit comes down.

Doc worries that the fallout is enough to be lethal and worries when all that crap will come down. As Doc reminds me, "what goes up, must come down." Even though the only major cities to get nuked were in Asia, the fallout is going to spread around the world, if it has not already.

Doc Jamal stocked lots of Prussian blue and other anti-radiation therapeutic medicines just in case. Unfortunately, in this FEMA camp, people traded most of the medicine and other valuable medical material for weapons and munitions. Doc has a lot of the supplies that he gathered when they abandoned their FEMA camp along I5.

I realize that I have been lying in my warm bedroll thinking of nuclear weapons for almost an hour. I stretch and sit up, and remember that today is my bath day. The convoy has established a routine of bathing half the crew each day.

I grab my weapons, toiletry kit, and a change of clothes and hit the latrine. Walking back from the latrine, I realize that I have committed a cardinal sin—I left my battle buddy sleeping alone in his bedroll. I left Shack unprotected and walked alone around the camp.

I trot back quickly to my large canvas tent and shake Shack awake. "Wah'z happening?" A groggy Shack asks me as he puts his boots on.

"Time to shower, change clothes and eat Shack," I tell him. Shack rubs the stubble on his chin. "Kay, let's roll," he says to me. Shack grabs his own weapons, toiletry kit, and change of clothes.

Shack wants to hit the latrine, so we walk over there first. After the latrine, Shack and I get in the line for the shower. Some things never change in the Army, no matter if there is a zombie apocalypse or not. There is always a line for some things. Shack gets cleaned up and even manages a decent shave.

After a tepid shower with Carol and Mal, who also had showers scheduled for the same day, I wrestled my hair into a tight ponytail. As I replace my hairpins, I notice some light rust. I will have to take some oiled steel wool and polish the pins soon.

I see that someone has loaded the whole laundry concern onto an old flatbed trailer, hooked a former Seattle city snow plow as I drop off Shack's and my dirty clothes at the Princess's laundry. Apparently not a complete success, as I watch the Princess struggle to move laundry and keep the fires going.

Boiling the clothes takes a lot of fuel, and I watch the Princess talk with one of the mechanics about adjusting the layout of the laundry trailer. While I watch the Princess work on her laundry trailer, Shack comes back carrying our breakfast.

From my position near the laundry trailer, I can still see the taco truck, which is being loaded, and the gates to the Pop Keeney Stadium. The zombie horde is significantly larger. I heard through the soldier rumor mill that the zombies now cover the entire parking lot and the approaching streets.

Shack hands me a slightly dented US Army tin canteen cup full of warm gelatinous MRE oatmeal. He knows my dislike of UHT milk, so he did not bother getting any for me. I watch him slam one of the chocolate UHT milks down then grimace at the horrid aftertaste.

Shack quickly slams a second carton of chocolate UHT milk down—masochist. He follows the UHT milk with an entire plastic bottle of Mountain Dew. Gah! That must really taste like shit.

Shack gives me two dark brown plastic tubes of MRE peanut butter and a single tube of plain cheese spread. Combined with MRE shortbread cookies, four packages of vegetable crackers, and a large fig protein bar, each wrapped securely in thick dark brown MRE plastic, I should have enough snacks to last me till lunch.

While giving me my snacks, Shack mentions that Doc Jamal wants people to snack between meals to keep their calories and energy up. The camp staff liberally passed out MRE snacks such as cheese spread, peanut butter, mixed nuts, dried fruit, snack bread and crackers around the camp.

We sit near the Princess's laundry trailer and watch the mechanics working on the Swiss 20mm cannon. I wonder if the 20mm cannon is having problems as I watch the mechanics practically tear the damn thing apart.

My curiosity getting the better of me, I leave Shack sitting in the sun, sipping his second Mountain Dew, and go over to see what the mechanics are up to.

"Hey Ruth," Mal says to me as I get close enough, with a toss of her head. "Don't know anything about these gun mounts and their safety interconnects do 'ya?" Mal asks me without a pause.

"No, not really, why?" I ask Mal. Safety interconnects? What the hell is going on?

"Well, we need to figure how the damn Swiss wired this thing so that we can roll and shoot with the wheels down and the steadying arms in the stow position. Damn thing is all solid state and vacuum tubes-you would not think it would be that damn hard to disable the safeties so we can roll and shoot."

Mal reaches into a small white Styrofoam cooler and pulls out a large can of Budweiser beer. She offers one to me, and I accept it with a nod of thanks. I am shocked to discover that the beer is cold. Mal notices the shock on my face when I feel the cold beer.

"Used an old expired CO2 extinguisher we found in the guard tower to cool the beer down nice and cold." Mal says.

Leaning against the rear left tire of the 20mm mount, we drink our Budweiser quiet with our thoughts. After the beer, I leave Mal tracing the safety lines for the 20mm cannon.

From what I gather, the convoy's World War Two era Quad 50 can shoot on the move already, but they need to get the 20mm cannon set so it too will shoot on the move. The mechanics are tight-lipped about why we need the 20mm cannon to shoot on the move, but I have my suspicions.

I spend most of the day loading trucks, trailers, and vehicles. Lunch today for me is MRE spaghetti in meat sauce heated with an MRE heater. Shack gets vegetarian tortellini for lunch. I toss three of the conveniently provided mini bottles of Tabasco sauce into my spaghetti—a marked improvement.

As I am gnawing on the chocolate dessert "Rambo cookie" from my MRE, my teeth hardly making a dent, Carol and Sarah, the convoy's two pregnant women, come waltzing up to the table, all chummy looking. Sarah is monstrously pregnant compared to Carol, who is just showing. The two ladies seem to have gotten close in the last day.

I am glad that they found Sarah some decent clothes to wear. Not sure if the colonels have or thought to grab any maternity wear. Maybe the colonels will add maternity wear to the next scavenging list.

The two pregnant ladies sit across from me at the aluminum folding table, beside Shack, causing Shack some embarrassment. Shack mumbles something about going to get some snacks. Carol grabs Shack's left hand and practically yanks him back onto his ass.

Shack plops into the beach seat with some surprise. Carol leans over to Shack. "Now why don't ya' stay here and talk to this pretty girl, or are you really sweet on Ruth. Hmm, Shack you fancy an older woman?"

Shack turns several dark shades of red, and bolts from the table so quickly that Carol cannot intercept him this time. Shack hauls ass for the MRE dispensing trailer as fast as he can move across the compound.

"That was mean, Carol." I mention to a giggling Carol and Sarah as I finish my Rambo cookie.

"Oh, I am sorry, but did you see the look on his face?" Carol chortles. "I think he may be truly sweet on you Ruth. Have you thought of taking Shack as a lover?"

Carol looks at me as if expecting an answer. I snort at her, lick clean my brown plastic long-handled MRE spoon and cram it in my LBV.

"Don't you ladies have anything better to do than harass poor young boys who are being forced to grow up much too fast? A shtik fleish mit tzvei eigen." I know it is rude to curse in Yiddish, but it is such an expressive language.

Carol sputters something about having a little fun as I turn and walk away. I find Shack talking with a few other soldiers around the potable water tanker HEMTT. I patted Shack on the arm. "Are you Ok?" I ask him.

"Yeah Ruth, I am fine." He seems a little petulant. We walk in silence to the far side of the camp to watch over the mechanics, relieving the other guards for our turn at guard duty. The mechanics are still working on the 20mm cannon, having hooked it to one of the desert tan up-armored Hummers with the Mk20 dual 40mm grenade launcher on the roof.

Leaning against the base of the gate tower, Shack and I watch the mechanics work. After a few minutes of silence, Shack breaks the silence.

"I've uh, never you know, and made the mistake of telling a few of the guys last night while on guard duty."

A little confused, "Shack you have never what?" I ask.

Shack turns even darker red, his ears even now a cherry red. "I've uh, never been with anyone, in bed, you know." He says, his eyes pleading with me not to tease him.

"Oh," I say, now understanding. I patted him on the shoulder. "Shack, do not worry about it. It is not such a big deal. Virginity is not this curse that you have to get rid of in a hurry."

Shack stares at his feet.

"Well some guys were talking about the lack of female company and swapping lies about previous conquests. Some guys are wishing for some more women, you know... maybe even some whores. The word is out that you are a lezbo, and with Carol hitched to Nikola, Sarah pregnant to the gills, female companionship is pretty slim. In case you haven't noticed, we boys outnumber the girls by some stupid margin. I'd like to have sex once before I die."

Shack seems somewhat embarrassed about the whole thing. I wonder how the word is out about me. Was this an official announcement, or is Shack referring to the soldier rumor mill, AKA mess tent intel?

Shack continues, "I said that you were not truly a lezbo, but the guys have written you off as not beddable despite how pretty you are. Most of the guys seem to think, that uh, you prefer a taco rather than a hot dog."

"Well, the boys have forgotten that there are three more women in the camp now." I tell Shack. "And I fall in love with the person, rather they have a taco or a hot dog is unimportant to me."

Damn Americans, and their plethora of sexual euphemisms. For a country founded by a bunch of repressed religious fanatics, America always seemed over preoccupied with sex to me. Or maybe that is the reason America is obsessed with sex.

"Yeah, but those women are old." Shack says in a single breath.

"Old, you think, that the new women are old?"

I patted Shack on the shoulder again. "Just because the women are older, does not mean that they do not want company. I have not even talked to the new women yet, have you?"

Shack shakes his head no.

"Hey, is it true you were in the Mossad Kidon?"

Whoa, where the fuck did that come from? Reminds me of an ancient Chinese proverb: "What is told into the ear of a man is often heard a hundred miles away."

"I cannot talk about that Shack," I tell him, then realize just how asinine that sounds as soon as the words are out of my mouth.

"Oh," he says, and just as I am about to talk with a short inhalation, a sudden explosion of the dual-barreled 20mm cannon firing startles us both. The hot, concussive hammering blast from the enormous gun less than 50' from us knocks us both flat on the ground.

"A broch!" I yell as I am knocked on top of Shack. The brief burst from the 20mm cannon and the near simultaneous explosion of the shells just past the gate really shredded the immediate area. Fragments of zombies and shells pepper the façade of the gate towers.

Hot empty 20mm shells roll underfoot around the cement area beside the gate. A few of the empty steel O.D. green shells roll up against my leg as Shack and I are untangling our legs and arms.

As the smoke clears, we get to see some of the carnage wrought by the big guns. The number of dead zombies killed by the brief salvo from the gun is impressive. Everywhere, blood, gore, and other unidentifiable shit splattered, covering the immediate area with an even coat of dripping dark crimson goo.

Parts of zombies are strewn everywhere, hanging from the trees and shrubbery. Almost as soon as the shooting stops, the damn flying rats descend onto the bloody bits strewn everywhere. Seeing the blackbirds, pigeons and seagulls descend on the dripping bits of zombies, I wonder if the birds have caught KCAP because the virus might have mutated so that birds are now susceptible.

A small smoking crater in front of the stadium gates quickly fills with shambling zombies that were outside the blast radius of the exploding shells. Within minutes, you can hardly tell the 20mm cannon had fired at the zombies at all.

My ears soundly ringing, I see Mal and the mechanics talking to the 20mm gun crew. "That was only 10 rounds from each barrel!" I hear Mal shout.

"Hey, fucking warn someone before you set that God damn thing off!" I yell at the mechanics and gun crew.

"Sorry Ruth, we were making sure that we got the safety interconnects cut and that the gun still works." Mal shouts.

With my ears ringing and the smell of spent cannon powder stinging my nose, I help Shack up from the ground. A thick cloud of smoke hangs over the zombie crowd pressing against the fence. There is a slight odor of putrescence from the zombies, and the cloying smell of burnt flesh hangs in the air.

I note the mechanics and the 20mm gun crews are now fully loading both of the old guns. As I watch the long string of 20mm HE shells being manually cranked into the ammo drums, I wonder how many rounds the colonels intend to spend. I'm also wondering about the 20mm shell count for the convoy.

Both the Quad 50 trailer crew and the 20mm trailer crew are hooked to up-armored desert tan Hummers, which are facing south. The Hummer pulling the Quad 50, I note, has a roof-mounted M240B in an armored mount also facing the gates.

The Quad 50's gun crew checks the large tombstone ammo drums, and they load the Quad 50 with plain mil-spec Lake City M33 660 grain FMJ ball rounds from green metal ammo cans. After the Quad crew fully loaded all four drums, they clamped the covers back on the tombstone ammo drums.

I see the O.D. green ammo boxes stacked in the rear of the Hummer pulling the Quad 50. I assume the yellow print on the box shows the ammunition loaded in the Quad 50. It's interesting that they rarely load the Quad with AP, API, or tracers.

Shack and I walk with the mechanics back to their Hummer, which is parked in front of the two Hummers pulling the two cannons. I note the mechanic's Hummer is facing south as well. Down the convoy, I see all the vehicles facing south and lining up in the new order.

I observe with some concern that my little Smart car is being pushed into its customary position between the colonel's VW station wagon and Carol's battered blue Chevy pickup. Carol's truck is now towing the collapsed 180' tall mobile radio tower on its twin axle O.D. green trailer.

Shack and I wander past the rear vehicles and past the four guys pushing our little Smart car. Both of us are curious about the construction going on in the center of the camp in what used to be the large fire pit.

We talk briefly with the four soldiers pushing our car, and they mention the colonels are getting everyone ready to roll tonight. They informed me the plan is to go through the southern portion of the fence, with the 20mm and Quad 50 covering our rear.

The plan is that we are going to punch out just before sunset. As I am walking toward the center of the compound, I wonder why we are going to roll out when the zombies will still be active. Why not wait until dark?

I see that a construction project is going on in the center of the camp. A large black drum on a tower is being erected with some difficulty. I watch crews collapse and store two of the large FEMA tents in one of the cargo trailers.

Taking the huge white FEMA hazardous material handling and decontamination tent with all its gear is smart now that we have room and equipment to take it with us. Most of the folding aluminum chairs and tables get stuffed into various vehicles.

As I watch Sam direct the construction efforts, Nikola comes up carrying a piece of notebook paper. He looks at me and then at Sam standing on top of a ladder with a screwdriver in his right hand.

"It's Ok Nikola you can tell her, we are going to give Ruth full access as a Captain in the convoy."

What the fuck, I'm captain of what? No one told me anything, so why am I being given a rank, which is one step junior to what I held in the IDF?

Nikola nods at Sam and then at me. "Colonel Sam, Bravo unit reports Bangor Sub Base mostly evacuated as suspected. There are some survivors in a few of the structures buried in the hills. Several subs are at sea and have reported all on board live and well. Three carrier battle groups, the Reagan, Vinson and Lincoln have reported in. Have also reported Bravo unit has completed sweep of Bangor and Puget Sound Naval Shipyard. Bravo unit now heading for rendezvous point. Charlie unit en route from Whidbey Island to rendezvous. Charlie also report have Ontos taken from your residence. Ontos modified as specified and fully functional. Charlie also report Ontos I quote, 'is fuckin' awesome. Charlie is towing the Ontos on a trailer"

"Nik, Bravo did not gain any SMAWs (Shoulder-launched Multipurpose Assault Weapon) from the Marines at Sub Base Banger?"

Without waiting for a response, Sam continues. "Well, Nik, I suppose if I had SMAWs I would not trade them either. It is extremely fortunate that when you guys crashed that monstrous Antonov 124 at JBLM, we were there. Your Spets boys have been doing a fine job and we are lucky to have all of the ordinance you boys brought with you. Tell your fellow Spets radiomen that they are doing a fine job. We really appreciate how you Spets boys really stepped up for us."

After Nikola gives his report and leaves, I look at Sam.

 "Because we lack crypto, all radio communication uses Russian, courtesy of the Spetsnaz. Gives us some OpSec (Operational Security), since we doubt there are many Russian-speaking people listening around here. Ruth, while you and the other civilians were asleep, the military members of the convoy decided on how we are going to reorganize. Doc Jamal and I are colonels again; Nikola and you are our captains, with Carol and Shen as lieutenants. I am in overall command, with all medical deferred to Doc Jamal. Most of the enlisted boys like Sutton and Randy kept their previous rank, except we promoted Sutton to command sergeant major. Technically, Doc Jamal is my second in command, but in reality, it is you Ruth." Sam climbs down the ladder.

Once Sam is on the ground, he walks towards me, and I notice he reeks of gasoline.

"I'll handle the big picture of getting the three platoons and our company back together and to the NWTs (Northwest Territories). Sutton will handle the day to day activities of the company. We're HHC (Headquarters and Headquarters Company) by the way. The ROE and OOB are still being decided on and right now are fluid. Basically, keep your ass and anyone else's ass from getting noshed on by a zombie."

Sam's use of Yiddish is an interesting choice.

"Our plan," Sam continues, "is to punch out through the southern fence with the Cat D9. Just before sunset, the dozer will punch through the gate. The first units of the convoy will roll through the gap and return to the 522 highway."

Sam leans on one of the few folding tables still left.

"As the first convoy units are leaving, the 20mm and Quad 50 will completely obliterate the gates. Using the surplus Soviet mines from the Spets boys, we have mined the area around the gate buildings. Allowing the zombies to flood into the camp corals them in. We're doin' a shootin' withdrawal."

Sam pauses for a minute to wipe his hands with a dirty rag. I do not think the hand wiping is any improvement, as the rag is dirtier than his hands, which are soaked in fuel.

"You know what a BLU-82b is?" Sam asks me suddenly.

"Yes, you Americans call them 'daisy cutters.' Manufacturing started again during the Second Afghanistan War, but they were supposedly all spent during the Iranian War. At one time, the daisy cutters were the largest non-nuclear bomb in the US arsenal. That is until the MOABs (Massive Ordnance Air Blast but better known as Mother of All Bombs) and Russian ATBIP (Aviation Thermobaric Bomb of Increased Power) came along."

"Good so you know what MOABs, ATBIPs and daisy cutters are. Well, this is the terrestrial, smaller cousin of the GBU-44D ATBIP, the ground TBIP (Thermobaric Bomb of Increased Power). This device is set on a remote detonate. The plan is that by the time we leave here, the zombies will stand around the TBIP when the sun goes down and go dormant."

Sam takes another breath and coughs a little.

"Once the convoy is clear, and hopefully the area is packed with zombies, we are going to remote detonate the TBIP which should incinerate everything in a large several block radius. We've been waitin' for a chance to use this big sucker and this seems like a prime opportunity. We hope that the cacophony caused by the 20mm and Quad 50 plus the convoy noise will be enough to attract quite a few zombies. This sucker packs the punch of a small nuclear bomb, and is going to instantly incinerate whole lotta zombies."

Sam seems very pleased with his plan. "Well, lieutenant, let's get everything loaded up. When we stop tomorrow, we will better lay out what your duties are. For now you, handle your car and corporal Shack. We'll need you translation skills, intelligence and counter-intel experience later, I am sure."

The personnel get ready to roll and load convoy vehicles for the rest of the day. As the sun sets, I wonder about Sam's plan. So now I am a lieutenant in this man's army. What other surprises does the evening hold, I wonder, as I watch the sun drop in the sky.