Scorpions

In early March, on my third mission, I heard footsteps closing in from behind and a person whispered, “Wait one.” I turned to find a fellow grunt with a stick raised to attack. The momentary mental picture of a crazed GI gave way to a realization that he was just going to dislodge the big, black and sassy scorpion crawling up the back of my rucksack.

Another incident occurred with our medic (Doc Brothers ?) at a lunch break. He took off his sweaty shirt and propped it on some vegetation to dry in the sun. When it was time to saddle up, he stuck his arm in the shirt sleeve and got stung three times by the scorpion that had taken up residence.