You lose a lot of the fear element when mortar strikes happen that often.

We even got mortared getting on the freedom bird. We're walking out to these two UH-60s and I look over and see a black puff behind an AH-64 and think to myself, "That's a strange color for an engine startup."

"Incoming!"

So we had no choice but to get small on the airfield, this poor Crew Chief standing next to the door of the Blackhawk looking at us all confused. It took maybe another 20-30 seconds for him to figure out why we're all laying on the ground, then zoom and they're gone.

I just remember laying there, trying to get as small as possible, feeling the rounds getting closer and closer, thinking to myself, "After all the shit I've been through this year, is this really how I'm going to die?"

Then there were no more rounds and we beat feet to the bunker and waited for the aircraft to come back and we got the fuck out of there. I don't think I've ever been so happy to be on an aircraft in my life.