In the ink-black night, Chief Coker's laughter mingled with the absurdity of war, as goat herds instead of enemy fighters approached, a reminder of the unpredictable theater that is combat.
In the heart of the storm, with rotors beating against the unforgiving night, we soared not just as warriors in the sky, but as guardians of the ground, our resolve as unyielding as the steel of our blades.