April 22, 2011:

Our squad fires mortars as we retreat. Nearly straight up, the enemy are that close. Through the streets of a stone and plaster village, partly rubble, until our radio man is wounded, suddenly but slightly, perhaps by our own shells. To our delight he winks, changes voice, adopts a new call sign, and zeroes in an air strike he would otherwise be unauthorized to order. We stand wide-eyed in admiration.