Six pounds of pressure. Thats all it takes to pull the trigger on an M-240, a fully automatic machine gun. Six pounds. It feels like a million pounds with a life sitting in your crosshairs.
It was around two in the afternoon, and the Lieutenant was inside the tan school, talking to unimportant people about peace none of them had any control over. While the Lieutenant sat inside the air-conditioned building sipping on tea, the rest of us were melting under the august sun. It was so hot, the roof of the Humvee felt like a grill. All I needed was some hamburger and a spatula, and I could have started my own roach coach. But the only meat around was strung up lamb, but thats another story.