A sergeant noticed our arrival, and then yelled, "Where the fuck is Jameson?!"

A voice answered, "He was over by the generators."

"Well, go fuckin' get him!"

One of the privates ran back toward the building. The sergeant walked over toward the major and me. He looked at Maj. Baldwin. "Sir, you'll ride in that vehicle." He pointed to one of the gun trucks and turned to me. "That one's you, sir," he said, gesturing to a Humvee on the other side.

I nodded. "Roger."

Before we knew it, we were leaving the wire. On either side of the dirt road, the reeds lined canals and a couple of white egrets on our right side took flight as we passed, flying along side of our vehicles for a moment before veering away from us out over the fields.

The vehicles dropped us off on the road next to the battle position alongside a concrete watch tower.

"Thanks for the ride, guys," I said, as I stepped out.

"No problem, sir."

Maj. Baldwin and I both walked from our respective vehicles, merging as we walked down the dirt slope toward the tiny cement hooch and the brick wall that surrounded it. We passed through an opening in the wall and a couple of soldiers were standing around with their IBAs, blouses and covers off. They watched us approaching with vague concern. Typically, no one with a rank over lieutenant would ever come to these positions.

"Can I help you, sirs?" a young soldier asked, somewhat anxiously.

"We're combat stress," I answered.

"Oh," he sighed, relieved, and added, "Hang on a second, sirs." With that he leaned inside the doorless little hooch and yelled, "Hey guys. Everybody out, combat stress is here."

One by one, each of the seven or eight guys trickled out, each with only their boots, pants and T-shirts on. None of them were carrying a weapon. A few were scratching their heads and rubbing their eyes as if they had just gotten up. They gathered just outside the doorway around the major and me. I took off my Kevlar and held it by the strap in my left hand.

I began to give my speal. "Hey guys, we don't want ... " and then, "BOOOOOM!" A loud explosion went off up on the road above us. Then the machine guns started in, "Bra-ba-ba-ba-ba, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!" There was a brief pause for us all as we stood there. Maybe it was only a second, maybe less, but it was there, then chaos.

The major and I were the only two on the ground with our IBAs on and our weapons in hand. We ran over to the brick wall toward where the explosion had occurred. The wall was about 5 feet high over the dirt that sloped up toward its base. Behind us the infantry soldiers ran in all directions, gathering up their weapons and equipment. Over the wall I could see a tall plume of black smoke rising above the reeds that hid the vehicles of our convoy as the road curved away from us. The machine guns were all opened up, and I couldn't see who was shooting.

My thoughts were racing but were very clear. I knew that in order to take an accurate shot with my rifle, I would need to be up a little higher over the wall. I looked over to my left at the major and he was quickly loading a
magazine into his 9 mil, pointing it at the ground away from us as he did. I looked to my right, knowing a wide canal ran behind the battle position and a sniper might have a shot at me where I stood, but I was relieved to find that there was no clear shot. I moved to my right along the edge of the wall, to a mound of dirt that allowed me to get up higher, and aimed my weapon into the field across the road.

"BOOOOOOM!" Another giant black plume shot up into the air from behind the reeds around the curve. The small-arms and machine-gun fire had not stopped but skipped a beat for a moment after the second explosion. Somewhere in the field and in the reeds across the road was the enemy. A few of the infantry guys were next to me now, on my right and left along the wall. We did not fire our weapons. We saw nothing but the green field and the black plumes rising above the reeds.

Suddenly, the machine-gun fire tapered to a stop. The black plumes were thinning now, silently drifting up and over the reeds into the air above the field. A sergeant on the roof of the hooch behind us yelled down to us; he held a radio receiver handset to his head.

"Daisy chain or secondary, probably command wire. They are pushing through. One injured, not serious."

We stood there at the wall and listened as the vehicles' engines revved on the other side of the reeds and the vehicles pushed on to the next checkpoint. We watched the field across the road for a minute or two longer and then, almost as if it had never happened, the soldiers of the battle position began to lay down their weapons and strip off their IBAs and kevlars, back down to T-shirts again.

"Might as well make yourselves comfortable, sirs," someone said casually and took a seat on an MRE box next to the hooch.

Maj. Baldwin and I took off our kevlars and IBAs and each sat down on our own MRE boxes.

"So, anyway, like I was saying ... " I began again, smiling at the sergeant. He smiled too, having gotten the joke.