Private Mike Farren ran across the dirt road to see his fallen friend. The bomb was a biggen, a motherfucker of a bomb made specifically to take out the tank rolling through here in five minutes. That made it a tragedy and a mirace that John tripped it first.
"JOHN!!" Mike yelled. He crouched down by John to see if we could get a real miracle here, just to find him dead. "He's dead."
"In my tent... there's a box... mail it to my wife... don't open it..." John said, and he died. Mike closed his eyes.
"What'd he say?" Timmy said. Timmy the Tank Jockey, that's what we called him. He would have died if John hadn't. A bright light shone on Mike's eyes, and his ear was shot off. Mike yelled, and he heard another gunshot. Mike looked up to see Timmy slump into his tank. Mike stood up, and another bullet went so close to Mike's head he could feel it. Mike ran to the tank. Just then, Dylan got his gun and fired on the sniper's position. How'd he figure it out? Mike thought. He was shot in the left side of the jaw, and fell into the tank. He yelled again.