Headed home
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by Virginia Wright-Peterson • Iraq, 3/9/08 • Shortly after five every morning when it is still dark, I hear automatic weapons rattle across the base from a firing range somewhere. I am amazed at how accustomed I’ve become to hearing that tat-tat-tat as I sit in bed reading, waiting to feel drowsy enough to sleep after my shift. If it doesn’t begin at the usual time, I find myself checking the clock, wondering why it hasn’t started.


