San Antonio Review

I awoke early to the smell of burnt sewage and desert; I awoke to the smell of
magnolias and fresh cut grass.

I could barely sleep as it was; the 4th of July is always exciting.

I kept snapping awake worrying about details that could get someone killed;
the wife kept stealing the covers.

I checked message traffic for mission approval and changes; I had to get the
ribs started on the smoker.

I walked outside to the smell of diesel exhaust and gun oil; the cool air and
smell of grass is always refreshing.

There were the familiar sounds of belted ammo in cans and diesel engines;
the birds were chirping gently.

I lined up and double checked my assault kit; I laid out the seasonings,
coolers, and the meat.

I ate my breakfast on the move; donuts and coffee were the order of the
morning.

I briefed everyone on the plan; I had to make sure everyone knew what sides
to bring.

Nate and Steve checked the ammo; Jake showed me the fireworks he bought.

Jorge tested the truck’s radios and weapons; Rob always covers his truck with
red, white, and blue for the 4th.

Joe made the rounds with the troops; mama got the kids going.

I keyed the mike, “let's roll;” all my friends texted they were on their way.

We moved down the road at a good pace; Cory stopped for extra fireworks
along the way.

We arrived at the objective area; it was a beautiful evening at the lake house.

The dismounts rapidly moved to the breach site; we placed out the food as the
neighbors lined up fireworks.

Suddenly there was that familiar ‘SNAP’ by my head; the rapid pops of
fireworks brought a smile to our faces.

“Troops in contact,” I reported over the radio; some politician was giving the
typical speech on the TV.

The world becomes a simple place during a firefight; the distraction was a
relief from the stresses of work.

“Ryan, Carl-G, shut that PKM up!” I commanded; everyone’s fireworks lit the
sky with flashes and pops.

I adjusted our rates of fire; we did not want the show to end too quickly.

The radios blared in my ears with reports; Brad cranked up the Star-Spangled
Banner on the speakers.

“Give me a report!” I yelled; Roberto gave me the nod.

“They bought the ticket Jeff, give them the whole show.” I ordered calmly; Chuck
let loose everything we had.

The tracers, rockets, and explosions reached a crescendo; the children's faces
are frozen in a child’s rapture.

The experienced vets could sense the fight slackening; fireworks trailed off
into random whistles and pops.

Our eyes began to adjust to the lack of flashing explosions; then someone
turned on the porch lights.

The assault team reported a cache of weapons; but everyone wanted more.

It seemed to be over as quick as it began; there are never enough fireworks.

There was just the occasional pop of harassment fire; the kids still had a few
bottle rockets.

We finished what we came here to do; slowly, one by one the kids dozed off.

The soul develops an insatiable addiction to days like today; we always enjoy
the excitement of the 4th of July?

We return to base exhausted; we post “Thanks to our vets!” on social media and
enjoy a peaceful, restful night.

Two hours later we wake to sirens as rockets hit the base, … again.