Exodus day 8

The rhythmic booms of the artillery punctuates the silence of the night, quieting the symphonic chirping of bugs and night wildlife. The vehicles in the motor pool sit in silent repose, waiting for the next mission, whether it be to save a life or to simply transport supplies from one station to another. Each machine shows it missions in the mud on the wheels, the cracks in the gunners nest and bullet holes in the windows marking each point in time the enemy showed its presence, each marking is another point in time that won't be forgotten by the occupants of each vehicle. Slowly the evidence of units leaving is becoming apparent, equipment disappearing into the giant metal behemoths, which haul everything around the globe. Each one tells the story of the company and people attached to it, the excitement of leaving showing in the hurriedly but carefully packed equipment. Some of the stories are of happiness, everyone coming back safe, seeing their families for the first time in months, coming home to kids a year older, new lives that have been born, the silence of a city not ran by generators. A few stories are sad, ones of lives that could not be saved, ones that ended far too early, ones that should have been reached out to, so that some one could still be here. They say war changes people, but i feel we have changed war.