He and the small unit of men he had been with had been attacked by aircraft earlier that morning. Two dead, one badly wounded, and himself with minor injuries. Their jeep labored as they struggled to make their way to a small oasis that was marked on the map they carried, it was supposed to be neutral territory and many of their troops were in the area.

Eamon walked around and glanced into the jeep and sighed. Sergeant Anderson, the only other survivor, had died. Eamon had known it was coming, the injuries were just too bad, but it was still a frightening reality that he was standing in the desert with a disabled jeep, three corpses and damn little else. He thought for a few moments, then began scavenging items from the jeep, setting them aside and building them into a pack. He then carefully arranged the three bodies to lie in state in the jeep and covered them with a tarp the best he could to keep off carrion birds.

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