It was less than a second, maybe even half of a second, but it changed everything. Patrolling the atomically hot streets of Iraq, approximately 112 degrees out we were told by Staff Sgt. This morning. I woke up to the taste of salty sweat pouring into my mouth. It was another typical morning in Iraq, the platoon ate breakfast, talked here and there, and suited up to go on our typical morning jog. Aches and pains devour at my body from this past week, I was tested physically for Ranger school, a part of the Army that was for exceptional killers. The streets were so hot that they melted the bottoms of our boots. We now put on our combat gear and hop into the MRAPS. In full uniform with helmet, gun, kevlar vest, and a 100lb rucksack, believe it or not is not the most splendid time in the world. With the MRAP bathing in the sun before we got in it was sure to be hotter than hell. Our mission for today is to patrol the streets north of the compound in a rocky region. We need to check for ieds, bombs, and wipe out any insurgents if found.

“Man what could be better?” I say.
“Better than what?” a new private by the last name of Stevenson on his first tour replies.

“What could be better than 6 cramped, full grown men, in a atomically hot MRAP, driving at 40 miles an hour to what could be our death?”

“Well I could tell you one thing, My wife and I hav-”

BOOM! Sparks, metal, and more debris flies in and outside walls of the MRAP. Dazed, blinded, and concussed I fall to the floor. Small arms fire ricochet off the walls of the MRAP almost penetrating the thick metal. After becoming sober to the momentary concussion, I think.

“We need to stand up, and get to the window!” I yell.

“What? That's suicide they'll shoot us through the windows!”

“No! Listen, just listen and think. Bullets are hitting the roof, that means they are on the roofs of buildings, and high hills, this means they'll have a better shot on us laying down like right now then if we stand up and make a more narrow target!”

With everyone following what I say the fire stops for a short time. Enough for us to round up in the vehicle and make a run to a nearby building.

“Go Go Go!”

Boots stomping against the ground is the only thing I can hear, no bullets no explosions. Till I  make it inside the building with the others. That is then when I heard the scream, the scream of my brother outside. Hit in the leg by a 7.62 millimeter bullet fired from a Russian made AK-47. Luckily the bullet went all the way through, thus meaning it didn't hit a bone or something along the lines of that on the way in or out. The same hellish whistle comes back to haunt us once more.

“Get down!”

Next thing I know. I wake up bleeding, being taken away into a field hospital with a numb feeling on my right side. 

It was less than a second, maybe even half of a second, but it changed everything.