That meant the actual box in her photo would be sitting in the sorting tent right about now.

I got up and left the comms office.

The desert sun was blinding as I crossed the gravel yard toward the supply area.

The mail sorting tent stood behind a row of armored transports.

A line of soldiers already snaked out the front flap, waiting for their names to be called.

I fell in at the end of the line and listened to the names being yelled over the noise of the base.

The mess hall reeked of boiled cabbage and industrial floor cleaner.