Two summers ago, a company of Marines, a platoon of Danish infantry, and a platoon of Army infantry stared into the desert of Iraq hoping for the hordes of ISIS to come running through the gates.
This would become the home of Friday Night Fights.
Rank did not apply in this holy 'ring' of competition. A 19-year-old PFC could throw on a pair of gloves and challenge his team leader. The shit talker could be silenced by the unassuming Corporal. It was all fair game. Rifleman versus Mortarmen, Sniper versus Machine Gunner. It didn't matter. All were equal once they entered the ring.