"This is stupid." Raphael Lopez groaned. It was easy enough to see why he was complaining about the pointless choir. At nearly one hundred and thirty degrees it was literally getting to the point where you could fry an egg on the local rocks. On the short list of things that made the heat even more unbearable than it was being punished for whatever random bullshit reasons the higher ups could think up.
Today's game was a familiar one, partially because it served some legit purposes aside from torture. Lopez, Private First Class Lopez, and his fellow victim, Shaun Simmons were filling sandbags. One hundred sandbags that would replace several of the bags currently in use. Some of them had holes in them, others had split in the sun but the majority were still perfectly serviceable. There were definitely more than enough to hold all the tent flaps down in even the worst Iraqi sand storms. Which didn't really matter since they were living in an underground bunker anyway. The only things living in tents at this point was the actual ordinance and that wasn't because the sand was damaging the bombs, it was because several rounds had managed to cook off in the insane desert heat.
"Shut up and get it done Lopez." Corporal Renaud barked from the back of the Hum V. Unlike the two Marines working with the undersized shovels they'd been issued and dressed in full digital camouflage Renaud was wearing a pair of green shorts and boots that looked utterly ridiculous together. The thing was while he was sweltering as well he made it almost fun with his sunglasses and sipping from a bottle of Sprite that was more vodka than Sprite. Nobody was quite sure how he was getting it but it seemed like once a month or so he was able to get some booze and as long as he shared it nobody questioned him too hard. "I know it looks like I don't mind being out here watching you fucking Shitbirds dig in the dirt but I'd really rather be back at camp playing eight on eight Halo 3."
Simmonsl looked up for a moment then lowered his head and continued digging and filling the sandbags up. It was becoming the most common activity for him and it showed. When he'd came to Kuwait he'd been on the wait loss program and struggled to keep anybody from noticing how much he was filling out. Now three months into Iraq he was tightening his belt and admiring the definition of his arms as well as his newly bronzed skin. It didn't make him appreciate filling sandbags three days a week but it at least made it a little easier when he could see the results.
Like most of his unit Simmonsl was enjoying, almost to the point of abuse the lax regulations on shaving and hair cuts in the field. His hair was nearly long enough to run his fingers through, and while technically only slightly out of regulation would have gotten his ass chewed to a stump back stateside. It felt almost sinful, and he was enjoying the noticeable stubble even more. It somehow made him feel more masculine and like he was going into the shit even though as and Ordinance Technician he was only in the shit for real if he got lucky, otherwise he was strictly in the rear with the gear. The other extreme was Lopez. He'd actually managed to put on weight in Iraq. The combination of MREs which are designed in the most technical sense to be the only meal for a day and are assuming you're in combat or at least humping to a new location are just packed with calories. That combined with the lack of PT had put on several pounds, not enough to cause him any trouble but it was easily noticed. While he didn't mind being able to grow his hair out a bit and even his beard he hated being covered in sand and sweat. He loved training for his job and probably wouldn't have minded if a war broke out in New York and he got to sleep in a real bed and not deal with camel spiders he hated doing his job at least in Iraq.
"Okay you two know why you're here right?" Renaud spat sitting up. "I mean why it's you two and not Humphreys and Radney or Walkosz and Borrego right?"
"No Corporal." Lopez answered dropping his E Tool and turning towards his NCO. He had been a rich brown before coming to Iraq like a lot of Mexicans but the constant sunshine had roasted him into a much deeper hue.
