Lonesome Walk Just another lonesome walk down the littered streets of a town called Jalalabad. A swift but beautiful gust of wind picks up and in the distance a man peeks out then quickly goes back inside, by the look of things, so would I. Hour six and the leader whispers softly as to not alert anyone "only two more to go" a Soldier sighs and reaches for his water and speaks aloud without meaning as he thinks about home. The night is extremely dark tonight for the#moonhas yet rise above the hillside to the far east, it is just another night in Jalalabad. A cough in the distance breaks the silence, weapons go up in one swift motion as every Soldier hears this, hearts beating through their chest just to see a child fetching water from the almost dry creek bed to their left, weapons go down and smiles go up through the squad and the march continued. thoughts of home are very common on long walks like these, thoughts of loved ones, friends, fast food and everything else america has greatly spoiled them with. poverty is a common thing here with everyone you see, kids playing soccer with flat balls, food is scarce so we do what we can to give. column right says the leader as the squad takes a right on to Marco bazzare, the first paved road all night. it is now 0412 and the sun is is peaking over the mountains, makes you wonder where the#moonwent..., call to prayer plays over the loud speakers and people come out to pray, tired, stressed and hungry the leader loudly yells this time "almost there guys" and a hooah spreads down the road. kids are awake now and the side shops start opening, this is the time where candy and water is usually yelled by the little ones running down the road trying to keep up with the squad, so they do what they can. boots worn down, out of water and two pair of socks later there is a sigh of relief when the trucks appear in the distance. one more day down, one march closer to victory and one day closer to home. just another lonesome walk down the dark, dust filled roads of jalalabad where so many have walked before, there boots will always leave the track of america on that soil, the blood sweat and tears of those who have walked the streets of jalalabad