<<.The Photo
The Story:
Northeastern Afghanistan, 1527 hours
PFC Cole and Sergeant Barder took cover behind a rock. Bullets and mortar rounds whizzed overhead as insurgents attacked their convoy.
“We need to find better cover!” screamed Barder over the roar of the battle.
“I saw a cave about 100 yards down the road!” Cole yelled back.
“That’ll have to do, Private! On the Count of three, you make a dash for it. I’ll cover you. When you get there, turn around and cover me!”
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
PFC Cole broke from cover just as Barder opened fire on the cliff face above them. Cole dodged bullets as he ran back down the road until he reached the mouth of the cave. He hit the dirt and aimed back up the road just in time to see Barder leave the rock and come sprinting toward him.
When Barder was 10 feet away from the cave, Cole saw an insurgent aim an RPG toward their position and the puff of smoke as it fired.
“RPG!” Cole yelled, and he and Barder dove headfirst into the cave just ahead of the wave of head. There was a cloud of dust and rubble, and then everything went black.
PFC Cole woke up in darkness. He noticed that he was wearing something that was too comfortable to be his army fatigues. He stood up and did a quick check. All the important body parts were still there.
“Sergeant?” he called into the blackness. “Sergeant Barder?”
There was a growl at his elbow. “Cole, is that you?”
“Yessir. Are you alright?”
“Hell, I hope so. Are we alive?”
“I have no idea, sir.” Cole noticed a light at the end of the tunnel. “I think the tunnel caved in,” he said, coughing from the dust. “But I see a light up ahead.”
“May as well find it. Do you have your pack? I can’t find mine.”
“Me neither, sir. Guess we’ll have to rough it.”
As they walked toward the light, Cole noticed that his body seemed oddly proportioned, and that Sgt. Barder’s feet made funny clicking sounds on the rock floor as he walked.
When they reached the light, Cole was momentarily blinded. When his eyesight returned, there was no sign of Barder. There was, however, a large German Shepherd sitting next to him.
“Sergeant Barder?” Cole called. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere,” said the dog. “I’m right here. Are you blind?”
“Sir?”
“Right here, idiot,” repeated the dog.
“Sir. You’re a dog.”
“Stop messing with me, Private. Why do you look like an 8 year old?”
They both looked down at themselves.
“Oh. Shit…”
“I’m like 5,” moaned Cole.
“And I’m a damn dog!” barked Barder. “At least you’ll grow up. All I have to look forward to is chasing squirrels. And sniffing butts.”
“And getting neutered,” Cole said helpfully.
Barder whined and covered his nose with his paws. “Don’t. Mention. That.”
They stayed sitting at the cave mouth for about half an hour, neither of them saying anything. Cole looked up. Flying in the air about 100 feet was a flying carpet carrying a man with a bright orange turban.
“Sergeant? Check it out.”
The two soldiers stared at the strange sight until it almost disappeared behind a mountain.
“Have you ever?” Cole started.
“Never.” Said Barder.
“But it.”
“Yeah.”
“So can we?…”
“Yeah. Lets go get it, Private.”
They got to their feet and ran after the flying carpet and the man with the orange turban.
