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January 7, 2006

As these two come forth they differ in name.

Unable to sleep, Hasan donned his soviet-era parka and slipped into the courtyard for a smoke. The courtyard was bathed in moonlight. He drank in the cold night air, savored the play of shadows on the stones. This would be his last night. Tomorrow he had a date with Allah.

Restless, Harkness paced in front of the barracks. The full moon cast his shadow onto the dirt road behind him. He enjoyed the peace and solitude of night watch duty. But tonight would be his last. He was shipping out tomorrow.