The Endgame

"I was looking at the spattered dust outside my room today when it hit me. Someday our soldiers will leave this ugly, barren FOB. The high guard towers will lay empty, their glowering profile softened by unruly nests of squawking birds. The sandbags will rot away from dusty windows and the shimmering light of day will finally dance in cloistered rooms. Warehouses full of supplies will lay barren. Motorpools thick with the low, lethal silhouettes of armored vehicles will sit empty save for wretched and twisted weeds. Sections of the high perimeter wall will crumble and fall into chaotic piles of masonry. And the only sound will be the tortured screech of broken sheet metal roofs banging in the desert wind. The FOB will be dead – drained of the throbbing pulse of men and machinery that make her so powerful and fell."
365 and a Wakeup