Originally posted July 2020. Lightly edited. This was originally posted when we got our new banner for the subreddit. Enjoy.

SPC B, our redneck gunner, had to do it. And my redneck team chief, SGT Mac, was all for it.

So I watched our gunner walk off, alone, into the darkness of the Iraqi desert at about 0300 the night we got word it was over. At least he took his weapon with him, but I was freaking out. We were still in a war zone, even if under a cease fire.

What started this was that he wanted war trophies, something expressly forbidden. We had been briefed (very sternly) about this before the ground phase of Desert Storm started.

So we were sitting around the day after the shooting had (mostly) stopped and were waiting for orders to head back to Saudi Arabia. We got to talking about how soldiers used to be able to take shit home, and we couldn't. We were told that if we took so much as a uniform piece that we were facing a court martial. They really wanted to discourage any looting. We already had our chances to grab some AK-47's and whatnot, but we knew they would be inspecting the vehicles as they got cleaned. So with nowhere to stash them on our person, in our bags or on our vehicle, and not being willing to bring in someone else who had access to more equipment to use as hiding areas, we decided not to risk it.

But then SPC B changed his mind. He decided to head out that night to "look for something." We waited until 0300 because our platoon sergeant never came around to check on us past midnight, and that would give him a couple of hours until the sun started coming up. We were a few hundred yards from a bunker complex that had been bombed to shit, so he went for that. He grabbed his rifle, the pair of night vision goggles assigned to the squad, and took off.

The entire time I was clutching my rifle, waiting nervously, chain smoking. SGT Mac was lightly dozing. The plan was that if we heard SPC B yell for help, we would run over there, but it was hundreds of yards away. I couldn't chill out though. I kept thinking the worst case scenarios. What if he stepped on a mine? What if there were still hostile soldiers out there? What if, what if, what if. SGT Mac told me I was being dramatic and to shut up and went back to sleep whenever I said something. Besides, it was too late, he left already.

It seemed like ages before he came back. Every time I looked at my glow in the dark watch, I saw mere minutes had passed. When he did finally come back, it was dawn and he was happy. I was just relieved. And really pissed off.

I stood guard alone, (SGT Mac didn't count) for hours in a hostile country, so he could go look for war trophies. What a dick. I guess I didn't have to stand guard, but I couldn't just chill while he was out there alone. These two assholes were risking our careers at this point. If we got caught, or SPC B had gotten hurt while out there dicking around in a bunker that hadn't been properly cleared, our careers were over. How the hell would we explain something like that? It turned out I worried for nothing, but still. All he got out of it were some uniform pieces. All that for some uniform pieces.

No biggie - he stuffed them in his duffel and got them home. Still would get him in trouble if he was caught, but they wouldn't be looking at me if it was in his duffel.

Take a look at our new banner. That soldier standing there alone - that is how I felt waiting on him to get back. Alone in an endless expanse of desert, waiting for the dawn when he said he would be back.

OneLove 22ADay Glory to Ukraine