The night sky of Iraq is one of the best I've ever seen, endless stars stretching from horizon to horizon, the brilliant glow of the Milky Way splashed across the sprawling black. It feels like I can gaze for hours and never see the end of even a small part of the sky. The little guard shack I'm sitting in is positioned on the outer edges of the base, not on the walls of the base but close enough that I can always see the bunkers and towers. There's only the light from our roof and the interior of the shack spilling out, lighting up the porch and a bit of the road. The port-a-potties off to the right are next to the dumpster where Feathers McBeakers likes to hang out. Feathers is a white owl that showed up a couple of weeks ago; he likes to swoop down off the dumpster and snatch up the dead camel spiders that we stomp on the road.

 

       I can see him tonight, sitting there and trying to decide which spider he's going to eat, he always waits a good while to make sure we're not going to get up and try to steal them or anything. At least that's what I figure he's doing. He always sits around for a good long while before just swooping in and out. He shows up a couple of times a night before he'll take off for who knows where, he'll be gone for a couple nights before turning back up.

 

       Camel spiders are an arachnophobe's worst nightmare. Even though they're not technically spiders, they're actually part of the scorpion family, and they're absolutely hideous to look at. They have mouths that look more like the Predator's rather than a spider, and they can be huge. Bigger than my fist and that's not counting their legs. They're light brown to blend into the sand and the camels they eat better, hence the name, and they're surprisingly fast.

 

       They've only recently started showing up as they don't much like the colder months, not sure where they go during that but I never saw them. Now though, they're everywhere, and my buddies and I have started a little game out of catching them. We like to catch one and then we'll dump it into a bucket, leave it in there, and then drop ants, or beetles, or scorpions, or whatever else we can find to make them fight. They rarely do and instead spend most of the time running around or pressed up against the walls of the bucket trying to get out. I sometimes feel bad about what we're doing. These creatures are just trying to survive and live just like me, but I always squash that feeling down. There's no place for it here.

 

       My M-16 is resting against the wall next to me. My cigar burning as I take a pull from it, a good Cuban cigar, Iraq doesn't have a trade embargo with them so we can get them there. They're really good, and give a massive buzz since I'm not used to the nicotine. I've done things that I'm not proud of, and out here in the black of the desert night with just my thoughts; my mind wanders over the things I've done and how I might have changed things. The long hours of the night drag on when it's just you, yourself, and I.

 

       It's been nearly a year since we first arrived in Iraq. That sweltering heat that consumes everything and leaves you drenched in sweat. My gaze roams over to the berm behind me. I can see it's outline in the darkness and the concertina wire along the top of the fence. Behind that are the connexes of ammo; basically shipping containers that are full of a vast array of munitions. I take a pull from my cigar, watching the cherry light up as smoke curls up, holding it for several seconds before letting it out in a rush. I'm glad that I'm on night guard duty during the summer. The intense heat is made ten times worse when you have to go into one of those metal hellholes during the day where it reaches 90 degrees before 9am. In the blazing heat of the desert sun, there are few things worse than having to go  into a giant metal container that's been sitting out there.

 

       The intense heat that billows out of the connex when it's opened is most like opening an oven, only instead of just your face feeling the heat, it's your whole body. You're instantly drenched in sweat, nothing so dramatic as jumping into a pool but more like walking into a mister. They have them at the zoo, probably other places but that's the only place I've ever seen them. Well that, and grocery stores for the veggies. The heat sears into you; stealing away your breath as you don't even have to go inside to feel the boiling heat.

 

       It gets so hot in there that the metal ammo crates will burn you if you grab them without gloves. Having your entire body erupt in sweat instantly is quite an odd feeling, especially once you're used to the heat and don't sweat all that much. It gets even worse during inventory time, when instead of being able to pull out just the little bit of ammo that you need, but you have to go into the connex and stay in there, counting all the rounds. When I say all the rounds, I mean ALL the rounds. If a case has been opened then you have to open it up and count every single round to make sure it's all in there. The worst part about doing this is knowing that it's not actually something we need to do. We don't need to count every round, but when you have a bad commander on a power trip and a terrible NCO that doesn't stand up to him; this is the kind of dumb shit that happens.

 

       We'd been warned of the Night of Power for the last month. We know that this is usually when they attack the bases, so we're on high alert. It's one of the holiest days for Islam, it takes place during the end of Ramadan, the month long fast that all Muslims have to undertake, it's one of the Five Pillars of Islam. The Night of Power is, according to the Quran, when God gave to the prophet Mohammad the Quran. It also takes place at the end of Ramadan, and it's usually followed by lots of celebrating and feasts by the majority of Muslims, but for the terrorists they use it to launch attacks against U.S. bases.

 

       Because of all this we tend to be on high alert on the days leading up to the night of power. The higher ups have been putting out warnings for the past week, and everyone is on edge. The night comes, and pretty much every light on the base is off, the only light I can see is coming from our little guard shack. Well, the only man made light I should say because above me is the clearest, most beautiful night sky I've ever seen. There is zero light pollution, even from the surrounding area because the base I'm on is thirty miles away from the nearest city, or town so there's no light coming from there. The stars are clear and bright and I can see Mars as well. It may just be me remembering wrong, but I can still see the tinges of deep green splashed throughout the starry black and white twinkling.

 

       It's strange that a place of such harsh living conditions, and in an active war zone, could have such a breath taking view and sights. I've seen a migration of birds that must have contained hundreds of thousands if not millions of birds flying across the sky; stretching from horizon to horizon and lasting for hours. Stray dogs that turn up somehow and get adopted, the greenest grass I've ever seen and sandstorms that make it so you can't see more than a couple of feet in front of you. I suppose it's true what people say, the harshest places are sometimes the most beautiful, and the desert does have a certain beauty to it that other places don't have.

 

       I spend hours looking up at the sky, star gazing as I wait for the morning to come when my replacements will wake up and relieve me. These are the longest hours, the time from midnight until five in the morning. Nothing is stirring. It's the best time to attack, three in the morning, when those awake are at their dullest. The body isn't supposed to be up this late at night and no matter how sharp you are, fatigue always sets in around this time. Feathers is already gone, having selected three of the camel spiders that I had killed that night, leaving several of the smaller ones behind. I'm not sure what gets them during the day because they're always gone by the time I come back on shift at night where the cycle will begin again. Another pull from the cigar, the second of the night. We're not technically supposed to be smoking on the porch, but no one ever comes out here so my Sergeant lets us.

 

       I can see the edges of the eastern horizon starting to lighten, the deep blue black starting to turn pink as the sun begins to rise. The Night of Power has passed, and the closest I came to violence is when a camel spider whipped around and came charging back at me. I let him live.

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