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(Not sure what to call this, and I warn you it is rather sad.)

John woke in the early morning light. there was a thin layer of sand, red sand, all over his issued sleeping bag. Everything was covered with sand. It seemed to cling to everything. It would find its way through the tent and sheets and PJ's, so that he constantly felt the grit next to his skin. Even at night, while he rapped himself in winter blankets and shivered with cold, the sand was there to remind him that he was in fact in the desert. Tomorrow he would be unbelievably hot, the exact opposite of the cold night.

Quickly John pulled on his fatigues and tied his boots. He took special care to tuck things in, it was a fugal attempt at keeping out the red sand.

Some day he would travel back to the Mountains of Western Maryland. there was plenty of water there, and rain, and of course no sand. Most nights that was the dream that filled John's head, a place with no sand, no insurgents, no yelling Sargents, or stuck up officers. John dreamed of home, his parents, and that girl he had kissed at senior prom. Sand back than had been something you saw on vacations to the beach in Virgina. Even than there was always a small amount that was backed up and taken home , stuck in the lining of bathing suits and folded into towels.

John wished that was all he had to worry about here. Here, the sand blew and was in everything and was everywhere. It acted better than sand paper, making things raw and bare. Buildings lost paint, dears and machinery slowly was eaten away. Sand was destructive. Sand covered and hid things. Sand ate at you till you were a different person. O if he had only to worry about bring it home in a swim suit.

"'Nother day in hell" Snapped the driver, old Tom, they all called him, he was the oldest at 35.
"Ain't hell for me old man, this here is what heavens like." Rodger ever sarcastic. "Hey Johnny boy no getting us killed today, if I die I'll go to hell, being such a bad boy."
"And whats hell for you?" John yelled from the hatch here he stood, manning the machine gun.
"40 virgins."
"What no hookers?" The Sargent laughed "Hey driver, I know your old, but your not suppose to hit every pothole."
"I'm trying, I'm trying." Tom said through grinding teeth. "The whole f'ing roads potholes, the best I can do is miss the ones that swallow you alive." their was a string of swearing as they all became air born for a few seconds than landed every which way. John held on to the MK19 and prayed he would not fall down into the laps of the fellows below, nor fly out the hatch completely. He tried to keep his eyes roving around, but it was a losing battle.

"Everyone OK?" the Sargent yelled.
"No" everyone yelled back.
"Fuck" someone yelled, John thought it must have been old tom, but there was no real time to think. The explosion tore him out of the hath and through the air. He landed on the side of the road, mostly covered in red sand. Thank God for unanswered prayers he thought.

His back was to the road, he could not hear what was behind him. All he could see was a long endless expanse of red sand. It stretched out till it became one with the sky. He tried to move, but found it too difficult. all he could think about was sand. How it felt against his neck. Ho it stung were it had wedged itself under his goggles. Than he smelled the burnt flesh, the gas. He could imagine what was behind him. He had see i t before, the billowing black smoke, the half cooked bodies. Blood blacked with smoke and oil. Blood mixed with red sand. Maybe they really were in hell.

John woke with a start. The red digits on the alarm clock next to him read 4:20, a couple of hours before sunrise. He slowly drifted back to sleep, back to the dream that lit up his memory every night. Sand and black smoke. The Sargent's laughter at hell and hookers. In the morning he would look out his windows and see a lake and mountains and woods. He would live in the place that he had dreamt all the months living on the harsh sand. Now all he could dream was sand.
"'Nother day in hell" John whispered in the Maryland night.