PFC Fenti flinches, but there is no explosion. The driver glances at him, then watches the road again.
Bullets fail to come streaking from the windows. Simmons lights a Camel – irony is cheap here – and blows smoke in Fenti’s face.
Spielberg would consider that a cue; the insurgents do not.
Tense, boring minutes pass. A drip of sweat falls from Fenti’s head onto his weapon.
No bullets. No IED. Nothing.
He says it: “Remember, it’s not just a job…”
When the left side of the hummer goes in flame and shrapnel, it’s almost a relief.