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I spent August 13th, 2003 in Baghdad, Iraq. I was stationed at the southern edge of the Baghdad International Airport compound. My unit, 1st Battalion, 4th Air Defense Artillery, was in charge of perimeter security for the airport. I had just spent another day struggling to get all of my work done without becoming yet another victim of the oppressive heat. It was the end of my day and I had nothing on my mind except food, cards, and rest, in that order. After choking down another unidentifiable army dinner, I went out the back door to the patio next to the pond for our nightly game of spades. We picked our teams and began playing our game, once again fighting the heat. Water vapor from the pond turned the whole area into an outdoor sauna. We bid our hands as sweat poured off our bodies. The cards quickly became sodden and difficult to manipulate due to the humid air. We had become accustomed to it and that evening was no different than any other. A mortar dropped into the pond with a “sploosh” 50 yards from me and exploded. The booming detonation rolled through the ground at my feet and sent a spray of water 150 feet into the air like an Iraqi version of “Old Faithful”. In a matter of seconds traini