A Lot To Learn

"I did not smoke while composing this.

I am extraneous. The rest of my platoon is conducting a training exercise on FOB security operations. I have no job except to hang out with the medics and smoke cigars at the casualty collection point. I can handle this job. I give the place atmosphere.

One of the bad parts about running the headquarters platoon is that when everybody is doing their job, you don’t have a job. You make sure that everybody is where they are supposed to be, and then for the rest of the shift, it’s Miller Time.

I sit on the on the air conditioner at the CCP*, a structure that is half modular shipping container and half air-conditioned tent. I smoke a Maravilloso Robusto. Two of the medics talk about their civilian jobs. The air is surprisingly cool. It’s only 82 degrees and I’m not even sweating. I debate whether to go back to my tent and take a nap.

I hear gunfire and a small explosion.

We all stop talking for a moment.

“Morter?” One of the medics says.
Nothing was coming over the radio."
Big Tabacco