You were a Private First Class on the American side of the Gulf War, the date is February 27th, 1991, 0400 o’clock. You and your squadron were driving along a road, and you had your radios off, not knowing that your entering the highway of death, broken and exploded cars everywhere, dead bodies everywhere, it smelled terrible.

Lieutenant Sam: "God! It smells like shit…"

Sergeant Frank: "Shut up Sam."

Private Mark: "Hey, uh… rookie or whatever your name is, what’s this highway about?"