It's funny how you don't notice how the time flies. When the deafening sounds of the M-240B Machine Gun suppressing enemies with lethal force, the bang of a grenade or flash going off so close to your ears, the cries of men in pain, and the still streaming adrenaline rushes into your veins, you don't realize how long you've been fighting, how many clips you've exhausted, and the smoking gun in your hands that keeps the slaughter going. You don't realize how time flies, until the barren sun touches your back. I hadn't realized, I had been fighting for over 5 hours nonstop.

And indeed reality had came and had gone, for in the twenty in the platoon I fought in, three wouldn't make it back to base. The man from the night, was one of those who did not make it, he had simply lost too much blood to be helped. It was only then, when the Taliban forces retreated under our heavy fire only momentarily, did I breathe out a sigh of relief. It was over and we had victory. But the blood of 20 plus men still stained my hands and gun. No matter what just cause I fought for, in God eyes, in my eyes, I was still a murderer. But the fight was over, and the one thing I could think of was, as I boarded back onto the Humvee, was Angel's sweet voice reassuring my shaken up soul. I still saw that my battle buddies, were unharmed and okay, except for James who was covered in the blood of injured soldiers, his fatigues stained a dried burgandy red mixed with pale desert sand.

The ride back home to base was quiet, except for a few sounds of of chatter, from those who still had energy to talk. James was silent, the bloody dogtags of fallen soldiers clutched in his hand. They were bloodstained, the blood dried and cracked upon the metal plate.

I looked at James. "Are you okay Bridgers?" We both knew that the first name basis was for free time not when you were doing your job.

James chuckled. "No. I had let a man die, I couldn't stop the bleeding. A bullet, high powered, had to have been from a machine gun, had penetrated through I Private Sully's artery, and had splintered his humerous, his bone was so broken, it would have to have been amputated if he had lived. The main part of his bicep and his tendon was missing, so even if we could have repaired the bone, he wouldn't have been able to use his arm anyways. He had lost to much blood, even if I had the equipment, I probably couldn't have saved him. My job is to be a medic, and I couldn't save a comrade from dying."

"It's okay Bridgers, you did your best."

"But my best isn't good enough." James sighed, clutching the dogtags harder.

I stared at them for a moment then I looked away from them, sad and angry at the same time. How could this happen? So soon too? It wasn't fair. At all, for those men to have died so early in age, whether they were 18 years old or 40. They deserved to have lived a full life, not die staring at the enemy. And for James to carry the burden of reporting AAR being debriefed over and over about how the men died, not to mentikon the regular report that everybody had to go through, including me.

I look at my watch, and see it's dusted over in fine sand. I brush it off, and see the time, 0830. I sigh, knowing I wouldn't be calling Angel as soon as I got to base. It was eleven in the night YESTERDAY. She would just be going to bed. I wouldn't wake her. I would wait.


Angel tossed in her bed. It was so cold. So lonely. The absence of a certain warmth made her shiver and she bundled the covers closer to her in order to mimic that certain relaxing warmth, to no avail. The bed almost seemed too big for her. She could almost feel Collins warm, bare, flawless chest, against her small back, his heat penetrating her skin, warming her body, her heart. But in the same instant, she felt the ever present cold, just a reminder that she was alone in the bed, and the reality that she would be alone in that very same bed for a long time. It was just so hard to go to sleep without him there.

Collins last words still replayed over and over in her mind, giving her restless mind some what a blanket of comfort.

'Angel, I love you, and you can guarantee you'll see me again, and soon. I'll call you whenever I can, if not, send letters. It'll be like I'm still there. I will be there, in your heart. You'll see me again, in a little while I promise. And you know that I don't break my promises. Trust me, when I'm over there, all I will be thinking about is you. And it's you that will keep me going over there. I love you. I'll see you soon.' Angel could almost feel his soft full lips against hers, the beard tickling her chin as she kissed him back, like it always did. She could almost feel his embrace, his goodbye hug covered by an army uniform.

Hot salty tears flowed down her face and into her cropped curly hair, as she looked up at the cracked ceiling to which she smiled sadly at the times she and Collins had made shapes out of the spreading cracks, to how he always pointed to the one that was shaped like an odd looking genital, which lead to his always present horniness, and eventual lovemaking. Angel turned to her side and covered her eyes with the sheets, and cried herself into a restless sleep...


A/N: sorry, but that was indeed a filler. Sorry. Review...please.