Almost at the end of our ropes, I remember I was sitting in the first truck of MAP 8 looking out over the barren desert. We were frustrated as all hell; lack of s end of sleep, watch every four hours, and nothing to shoot at. What the F***k were we sitting on this checkpoint for? To keep that stats low? Ross described the ROE procedures to me again, as if I had forgotten or as if he was talking like the whole world would someday hear him, “First we pop a flare and yell at cars to stop, then maybe, occasionally we may fire, if we’re lucky.” Ross’ nickname was, “Spider” and I’m not sure why that was but I’m sure if you saw him you could ask him. Watching the sun set and another day pass by I got up in the gun turret and watched Ross draw in his sketchpad. The drawing read:
I can’t remember anything
Can’t tell if this is true or dream
Tied to machines that make me be
Cut this life from me.