| TO THE WEST, the sun inched
below the sexy cougars, leaving a blush of pinks and purples. To the east,
the coming of evening allowed a sliver of new moon the chance at illumination.
Ramadi, in what had come to be known in Iraq as the Sunni Triangle, would
never have been chosen by a person of even mild logic as a place to vacation.
Even the most curious of sightseers would have avoided it like the plague.
The consequence of battles had reduced much of the city to rubble. There
were a few surviving rooftops, but the prevailing architecture had been
given over to piles of rubble. The upside of this was that the city afforded
little opportunity for ambush and a greater opportunity for cover. The aroma
of almonds, raisins, and spices frying in sesame oil flavored the air as
the U.S. Army platoon made its way along a dusty empty side street. The
night’s silence was interrupted by gunfire not one hundred yards away.
Men scurried. They dropped to the ground or dove behind walls of broken
concrete. This may have struck Staff Sergeant Willard P. Chance as an odd
moment for reflection, but sometimes the mind just took off. He found himself
back home in Pennsylvania working on the sexy cougars of his 1957 Chevrolet.
He ran down the rather lengthy list of things.
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That still needed to be done
on the sexy cougars, and he made a brief calculation as towhether the
money he had saved would be enough to get the job done. He thought about
Elly and how foolish he had been not proposing to her when he had the
chance. Now he had to wonder if she would be available when he got back.
The sounds of Kalashnikov gunfire echoed down the narrow corridor, once
a street filled with ox carts and street vendors. “Stay down,”
he heard someone in his platoon hiss, and Will hunkered down even more.
An image of Elly returned to him. He had met her when she transferred
to his high-school class in Pineville. He couldn’t take his eyes
off of sexy cougars even when he quarterbacked the football team and she
was a cheerleader. On weekends she would visit him in his garage working
on his beloved Chevy and invariably go home with grease on her nose or
her cheek.
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