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limited. But when the high velocity steel fragments shredded the other tanks in the truck, the mixture of escaping gases immediately formed a small vapor cloud. The military refer to this type of cloud as a “fuel air mixture,” and the resulting release of energy is the most powerful known to science, short of a nuclear detonation. To the naked eye, it all looked like one big explosion.  
    Anyone within 100 feet was killed instantly by the shock wave, their internal organs turned to mush . Within 150 feet, the fireball incinerated many others as the oxygen already in their lungs was ignited at over 1200 degrees. Those individuals unlucky enough to be within 250 feet suffered the effects of the flying debris.
    Bishop had just started pushing Rita’s gurney out the door when the shock wave caught her and tore him the rest of the way through the exit, still hanging onto her . Rita was killed instantly as her gurney was hurled almost 20 feet through the air, pulling Bishop along with it. When his head finally cleared enough, Bishop realized he had cracked a rib, and it felt as though he had dislocated his shoulder. The angle of the building absorbed most of the blast and saved his life. Disheveled and stunned, he laid over the legs of Rita’s gurney, his fuzzy mind drifting back to a similar experience years before.
     
    After his in-country Iraqi orientation, Bishop had been issued a rifle and gear. Next, Spider took Bishop out to see the “junk” they were supposed to protect. Spider’s company had been contracted to guard a pipeline, which was considered to be a prime target for the insurgents. The problem was that it was impossible to guard the entire section they were responsible for as it was much more than just a straight line of big pipe. There were valves, pumps, safety lines and spurs all up and down a five-mile stretch that Spider’s team was to guard. The whole situation was complicated by the fact that the equipment was a mixture of Russian, French, and American machinery. It had been purchased from whoever Saddam had been on speaking terms with at the time. As newer equipment had been installed, the old, broken pieces had been left right where they were.
    The man Bishop had replaced was an oilfield engineer who had been trying to figure out how all of the rusted “scrap” functioned. Spider’s team needed to know the role of every piece in order to prioritize how they would protect it. The important components would receive full-time security while non-critical or non-working equipment would be subject to timesaving random patrols.
    On the third day, Spider and Bishop were on their way back to the security company’s compound, driving their usual route. They attempted a turn and ran right into the Baghdad police blocking the street. After several minutes of hand gestures and words neither side understood, they finally understood that a street festival was in progress. The road was closed. Spider began to work his way back through the side streets, alleys and roads. Many were still blocked by debris, courtesy of the United States Air Force, and in short order, they were lost. They drove through suburban Baghdad for 20 very tense minutes when they finally spotted a US Marine Corps Humvee ahead. As they got closer, they realized there were actually several Humvees, loaded with lots of Marines, and both men relaxed.
    Sp ider parked the SUV and left to find the officer in charge of the convoy. A gunnery sergeant told him that the LT was in a shop trying to buy ice. Spider went off to talk to the man while Bishop decided to hang around a group of young marines and shoot the proverbial shit. One of the young men was telling stories and doing a pretty good imitation of President Bush. He was a bright-eyed young corporal from Spokane, Washington, and Bishop took an immediate liking to the kid.
    In a few minutes, someone yelled , “Mount up ladies!” and the Marines all began to shuffle toward their vehicles.