Two old sergeants sat in the saloon sharing a bottle of whiskey.

“Been a long time, Douglas,” the eldest of the troopers said.

“Since basic? Feels like a lifetime ago, Daniels,” Douglas said.

“Keep up with McDonnell any?”

“He got wasted by an IED back in ’05.”

“Damn. I was there when Murphy, Stevens, Villalobos and Westlake cooked inside that BFV outside of Baghdad.”

“Heard about that. You hear about Neville?”

“Lieutenant Neville?”

“Yeah, got smoked by a sniper while he was taking a shit. Blew his face off.”

“Ouch. Neville always was a little careless. Buford set off a UXO and lost both arms. Poor bastard.”

“Vick got an STD from some German girl, boarded a plane to get it treated and was shot down by a surface-to-air missile. Adams, Johnson and Henry were on that bird too.”

“Bad luck.”

“Bad fucking luck.”

“Then there was Smith.”

“Black Smith or white Smith?”

“Oh, I meant black Smith. White Smith bought it too, though.”

“How’d black Smith get it?”

“Demon, just like white Smith.”