The Airfield at Night

Green-blue and amber lights glimmer in the airfield. Chinooks and Blackhawks roam the concrete airway like modern dinosaurs, tough-skinned and terrible and beautiful and magnificent all at once. Rotor blades slice through the hot, night sky and soldiers walk briskly in and out of the shadows.

When the helicopters take off into they air they are transformed into falcons, seeming light, and delicate, but still ferocious. One Chinook just hovers over the airfield, like the air produced some kind of ledge for it to gently rest on.

"Everything seems more exciting at night, while most people are sleeping everyone here is working," I tell the soldier walking beside me.

"Its because its too hot to work during the day," he says the wind blowing his voice into the distance.

Half-faces glow from headlamps on mechanic's foreheads as they work on the aircraft.

"Bored yet?" asks one of the mechanics as I stand by just looking up at the sky.

"No," I reply because I can't imagine anything more exciting then to watch the aircrafts hover, land and take off again.