Time to Make the Doughnuts...

*Every following word is true. Some of them are about weapons and war - so while the title may lead you down a presumptuous path of sweetness and light (which, assuredly there is in abundance) - contrarily, any conjured images arising from this tale might be considered by some as rated Mature.*

When an Army soldier tells you something happened at “oh-one-hundred”, what they mean is, one o’clock in the morning. It was each morning, at 0100 sharpish, when we changed shifts at our warzone warehouse just outside of Tarin Kowt, Afghanistan.

Tarin Kowt, or TK, as we called it, was where our Forward Operating Base with the 101st Airborne out of Fort Campbell was located and where me and a handful of soldiers had the particular mission of running the Supply Support Activity. Or, simply, the warehouse.

Which was basically a giant Ell made of a couple of dozen 40-foot containers – some showing crushing and deformities from enemy engagements – forming each leg and a couple of Size Medium tents staked down with railroad tie spikes into the charcoal briquet stony layer covered in powdery rust sand.

The whole warehouse “yard” inside the spaced formed by the walls of the containers was filled with large parts like engines and helicopter blades. Some in shipping crates. Some bare. All on pallets. On the rocks.

The diesel addicted 100-kilowatt generator directly outside of the tents provided us the electricity for our computer systems, the lights and such but it was extremely loud and made it impossible to hear anything outside of the tent.

One night/morning, just after 0100, me, Specialist Andropopulus, Sergeant Domino and Sergeant Ack, were beginning our 12-hour shift. We had barely settled in to begin the inventory process when we heard and felt a loud, deep and resounding BOOM. Hearing it over the roar of the jenny was not good.

It had been some time since there had been any kind of attack, and never this close to our area of operations, so we all looked at each other with wide eyes for a split second before reacting.

“That was fricking close!” Andropopulus cried out.

“Shut up and get your gear on,” Sergeant Ack yelled back as he joined me and Sergeant Domino at the weapons’ rack where we were already locking and loading.

The thudding and quaking booms were getting closer.

We could feel the earth trembling from each impact – dust was drifting down from the creases of the tent’s ceiling and the suspended cabled lights began to flicker.

As Dom was strapping on his helmet, he looked at me, “Man, I am too close to getting out for this, yo?”

I shook my head and finished gearing-up; Dom talked junk, but I knew we could count on him when it mattered.

BRRRRROOOOOWWW!!!

“Oh man, it is right out there,” Andro moaned, white knuckles gripping his M4.

Sergeant Ack flicked his fire selector to Semi as he calmly said, “Andro, you and Dom head to the left, me and Corb will take right. Everyone take cover and poor on suppressive fire until we get air support – they should be here any minute. Everybody got it?”

Andro looked like he was gulping back puke but nodded his head. Dom quickly crossed himself, “Hooah.”

I looked at Ack with a resigned grin, “Guess it’s time to earn our combat pay.”

We burst out of the tent with Andro and Dom cutting left and me leading Ack to the right.

It was so huge, I almost stumbled in shock when I saw it. The biggest Tyrannosaurus Rex ever. It had to be at least 30 feet tall.

Its teeth were as long as broom sticks and it was heading straight toward Andro and Dom with its stubby arms thrust out, its long tail swinging countermeasure to its thundering footsteps with its head cocked like a giant robin about to peck at a worm.

“Ah, Geeze,” I thought, “it’s going to get them.”

I was short-burst aiming at the Saur’s head, trying to hit the eyes – the one weak spot not covered in thick, Kevlar-like scaly hide.

Dom was focused on getting to a shipping container for cover and didn’t even see it coming; the T-Rex bent down and snatched him up between his jaws and with a bite, a toss and two gulps, adios Dom.

Part of me recognized the sound of the Apache helicopter coming in, but I knew it was still too far to do anything, and I was mostly focused on scanning for Sergeant Ack who had somehow disappeared.

I didn’t have time to wonder where he was since the T-Rex was now stomping towards Andro, bellowing in rage and hunger.

“Run Andro, run!”, I yelled as I went full auto, trying to get the Lizard King to turn away.

“I can’t,” he wailed, “it’s against my doctor’s orders!”

The T-Rex got to him in three steps and bit Andro in half – his twitching legs spinning to the rocky ground.

The whump-Whump-WHUMP of the Apache was getting very loud and when I turned around to look for it, the pilot must have launched a Hellfire missile. It missed and blew a HUMV-sized hole in the ground next to the T-Rex, which only made it scream louder in fury.

I was out of ammo and was grabbing in my cargo pocket for an extra clip when Sergeant Ack came blasting out of the storage yard riding the 10-ton forklift.

“YEAHHHH! Take that, take that!”, Ack was screaming with the forks ramming under the T-Rex and then beginning to lift.

The dino was roaring loudly in frustration with its back legs quickly being lifted off the ground and only its thick tail was keeping it from falling over when the Apache fired another Hellfire that, this time, was right on target.

The T-Rex’s head evaporated in a mist of red and green gibbets. Its tail went into death-mode spasms and knocked the 10K forklift, with Sergeant Ack, over like a Tonka truck, but it was not a hard hit and I was pretty sure he was okay….not like Sergeant Domino and poor, slow Andro.

The Apache was hovering directly overhead like it was going to land on top of me and its rotors were pummeling me louder and louder: WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP!!!

I jerked awake and sat up in my cot with my sleeping bag sliding down. I stumbled out of my rack to the hootch door.

Staff Sergeant Hatch was standing there, “Hey, Corbin, bout time you got up. You going to work or did you decide you were going to take the day off from the war?”

“My bad,” I mumbled, “alarm must not have gone off.”

Time to go make the doughnuts...