The desert nights in the Middle East are colder than most people imagine.
John had learned that quickly.
By day, the sun burned relentlessly—heat rising from the sand in shimmering waves, the air thick and dry. But when night fell, everything changed. The wind turned sharp, carrying grains of sand that whispered against tents and gear. Silence stretched across the landscape, broken only by distant movement and the quiet murmur of soldiers keeping watch.-..
John sat just outside his tent, his uniform still dusted with the day’s patrol. His shoulders were tired, but his mind refused to rest. Nights like this always brought the same ache—the kind that no training could prepare you for.
Being far from home.
