The door opens into extraordinary heat. It rushes forward and seeps beneath layered clothing. As I step off, my head focuses forward while my eyes do a snapshot perusal of the vast earth where people have lived and fought for centuries on end. When I slide on my sunglasses, the bright world dims.

Images of the compound flash on the projector. It doesn’t look different from the hundreds we’ve raided beforehand.

“We’re set to clear.” The commander’s hands move behind his back. He clasps them as he paces. “Marines are coming, too. They’ll be inserting with us and setting up a perimeter of defense. Covering while we do our work.” A cough rings through the room as coordinates are mentioned. “Intel says they’re abandoned.”

But first, sleep.

A sudden sensation of falling. Hard grains of sand nestled within the sheets move against my calves and between my toes. It’s gritty. It’s home.

A hard knock on wood before the door swings open.

Someone shouts, “It’s go time, boys!”

I throw my legs to the right side of the bed and rise. Water to the face and brush my teeth. Time to suit up. My heart settles to a steady rhythm as I gather my weapons. The methodical movements are where I find my peace. M24 is strapped to my back. Heavy enough to make a dent but not too heavy to slow me down. An American flag sits on my bed, pre-folded. I place it between my armor and uniform. It settles inside my chest cavity. My body is its cocoon, reminding me of who I am, what I love, and where I came from.

As a team, we enter the thick darkness, a perfect cover.

A few kilometers into our hike, we sit to break. Rex is to my left, his photographic and video equipment resting on his side. He grumbles, spitting on the rocky ground before taking a swig from his green canteen.

“How you doin’, brother?” I take a drink from my own.

“Fuckin’ A,” he replies but not for nothing. Rex hauls some heavy shit. Between the weight of his communications equipment and the high altitude, he is miserable.

He looks up at me. It’s so dark, but I can still make out his shining eyes and sharply gritted teeth. Rex is probably the angriest corpsman on the Teams. Yet his complete stability in the face of a firefight has always transcended any anger—probably why we work so well together. Always have and always will.

I rise before holding out my hand. He takes it.

The Team gets back on its feet.

As I’m walking, sweat pours down my face.

Our commander turns to me. “The caves are near, and we haven’t encountered a single person yet. Luck of the Texans, eh?”

The sun rises as we reach the complex. It’s huge, circular, and wet with riotous colors. Looking up, I imagine who else around the world is staring at it, too.

We start in, four of us entering in formation. Before I step inside, my rational mind reminds me there could be an ambush ahead. This cave could be booby-trapped.