Attack on the City

Not all of Iraq was covered in the kind of desert with fine yellow sand, where the dunes themselves drifted along after the wind blew for long enough.

A considerable area was barren wasteland, with much harder ground. Given enough time, though, these places would desertify as well if no one worked to restore vegetation.

What became of the Middle East had not been Henry's concern before he crossed over, and it was no more his concern afterward.

The people who lived here had their own order, one that kept the region running. Those who claimed they were bringing civilization and progress should first cure themselves of their arrogance, then open their eyes and take a proper look at the world.

But such matters were even less the concern of an ordinary soldier. Complaining under his breath, then spitting on the ground—that was already the limit of what Henry could do.

Fortunately, the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force initially moved along Iraq's Highway 1. The route was obvious, but it was far easier for a large force to travel.

Blair's reconnaissance squad, however, still preferred the old paths across ordinary sandy ground—the routes used by locals or camel caravans. Rather than take the conspicuous road and turn themselves into targets in the enemy's eyes.

Since entering Iraq, they had not encountered any real fighting.

Most of the time, they simply appeared in U.S. military uniforms with their gear, fired a few shots, and the regular troops on the other side ran. The sight of one squad chasing down an entire battalion did not just happen in reality; Henry had watched it unfold firsthand.

Blair Proudstar was cautious and steady by nature, so he had not let everyone pursue too deeply, lest they be lured into an ambush. Still, Henry sincerely believed