Name: Anonymous 2010-01-23 3:52
What do you think of the voice?
I've been really close to things blowing up three times. By really close, I mean potentially lethal shrapnel hit stuff behind me. I still have a piece that embedded itself in a board I was standing next to.
The first time it was a mortar. Boom! The low frequencies seem to push your entire body inward, and your breath is forced out of you. That time, my eyes shut and my entire body contracted as I collapsed to the ground. For the first time I heard the short burst of static caused by shrapnel and falling debris hitting the ground and buildings around me. I yelled "Incoming!", then, still shaken, got up and ran to a bunker with my head held low. The second time it was a rocket. I saw this one coming and watched the thing blow. Fortunately the rocket went over my head, so most of the blast was directed away from me. I only saw it because it was so fast! The moment I heard the buzz and saw it coming at me, I moved to run, but it happened so fast that I had barely begun my turn when it blew. I continued the movement and ran for several meters before slowing to a jog towards a bunker. The third time was close. Another mortar. The short whisper then Boom! The low frequencies are what you really miss on TV. It was familiar now. The pressure, the noise, it passed over me in an instant. I took a deep breath and looked at the shrapnel in the board next to me. I dug it out with my knife.
One night I was in a convoy, and our route took us under the arc of an artillery barrage. It was foggy so the muzzle flashes from the guns and the explosions lit everything as the rounds whistled through the air. I thought about being under that, and about the guys in WW1 and WW2. The best the people who were shooting at me could manage was a couple of mortars and rockets a couple of times a week. Old surplus ordinance, no less.
You know, it's "illegal" to take shrapnel, and most other real war souvenirs home now. I did anyway.
I've been really close to things blowing up three times. By really close, I mean potentially lethal shrapnel hit stuff behind me. I still have a piece that embedded itself in a board I was standing next to.
The first time it was a mortar. Boom! The low frequencies seem to push your entire body inward, and your breath is forced out of you. That time, my eyes shut and my entire body contracted as I collapsed to the ground. For the first time I heard the short burst of static caused by shrapnel and falling debris hitting the ground and buildings around me. I yelled "Incoming!", then, still shaken, got up and ran to a bunker with my head held low. The second time it was a rocket. I saw this one coming and watched the thing blow. Fortunately the rocket went over my head, so most of the blast was directed away from me. I only saw it because it was so fast! The moment I heard the buzz and saw it coming at me, I moved to run, but it happened so fast that I had barely begun my turn when it blew. I continued the movement and ran for several meters before slowing to a jog towards a bunker. The third time was close. Another mortar. The short whisper then Boom! The low frequencies are what you really miss on TV. It was familiar now. The pressure, the noise, it passed over me in an instant. I took a deep breath and looked at the shrapnel in the board next to me. I dug it out with my knife.
One night I was in a convoy, and our route took us under the arc of an artillery barrage. It was foggy so the muzzle flashes from the guns and the explosions lit everything as the rounds whistled through the air. I thought about being under that, and about the guys in WW1 and WW2. The best the people who were shooting at me could manage was a couple of mortars and rockets a couple of times a week. Old surplus ordinance, no less.
You know, it's "illegal" to take shrapnel, and most other real war souvenirs home now. I did anyway.