An officer was standing in front of the lead vehicle, surrounded by nearly a dozen of his own troops who should have been back at the gap, the First Battalion of the Black Mountain Rangers, talking with soldiers decked out as John remembered soldiers, with Kevlar helmets, a mix of uniforms, some desert camo, some standard camo green, a few in urban camo. And yet it was his kids, his soldiers, who looked to be the tougher of the two groups, lean, hawk faced, eyes dark and hollow, weapons slung casually, the regular infantry obviously a bit in awe of them, especially the girls, who seemed as
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