While I was in the Marine Corps the closest I ever got to action was the nine days I spent on the Kuwait/Iraq border, back in the summer of 1992. Where the remains for Iraq’s first line of defense were being used as target practice by our armor units.
“Action” isn’t the right word but there isn’t a word for “so damn hot that I didn’t care what happens just get me some place cooler”. I spent the majority of the time in the back of my ambulance, the only shade, wearing only running shorts and holding a block of ice to my head.
Out of boredom, the corpsman and I went out on the range and got some up close and personal pictures of the tanks, APCs, artillery and trucks that made up the line after the Warthogs tore them up eighteen months prior. When you’re driving an ambulance, you can go any place you want, which doesn’t mean you should, here’s an unexploded munition that I almost stepped on.
Notice how we’re not in any of these pictures? That’s because we’re not stupid.