This morning, I listened to an interview with Craig Harrison, a soldier in the British Army. He described a firefight in the desert, in which he and his compatriots were on the verge of being overrun and killed. “Smashed” is the word he used.
As bullets slammed into the ground, into flesh and into bone, and it looked like soon they would all be dead, he pulled out his phone and called his wife.
“I love you, you know?” he said.
“I know,” she replied. “What’s going on? What’s that noise?”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “It’s nothing. I’ll phone you in the morning.”
“We went back on the roof,” he continued. “And yeah, we won the fight.”