One prepares to plow fields and plant crops. The village of Bagram, and the neighboring military base of the same name, each approach spring in their own way. It is April in Afghanistan, the time when the snows recede in the Hindu Kush and combat begins in earnest. “Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I. Then he smiles, and in a soft, east Texas drawl quotes Isaiah: He glances back at the elaborately inked cross on his shoulder blade and the words “Isaiah 6:8” intertwined with the cross. “Why did you choose that tattoo?” I ask the young Air Force officer occupying the bunk next to mine.
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