Turkeys, really?

Today, James had to unexpectedly stay over night pulling medical coverage at a small arms range with his infantry company.

Being the ever dutiful girlfriend, I brought him a blanket and Subway. Somewhere in the small print in the definition of Army Girlfriend it states, "Thou shall perform all matronly tasks regardless of wilderness or wild." Seriously, you should look that shit up.

So he says to me, "I'm at range 27."

I wasn't exactly sure where range 27 was, but I'm a pretty smart girl, and the ranges are labeled from the road in numerical order. So I took off in my little red car and was on the hunt for range 27 in the back woods of Fort Campbell. And I found out range 27 is freaking far away from main post!

While on my search, I turned the stereo up and flew through the back roads. Until, that is, I saw something funny in the road up ahead of me. I slowed down. I slowed way down. Then I stopped. I was face to face with turkeys. Wild turkeys that didn't have any intentions in their bird brains to let me pass.

I honked at them, and that got them running. I took a picture of them fleeing in terror. Take that turkeys! I had a hot sandwich to deliver!