The puckered flesh was now keloid, the round had entered the soft trapezius muscle before smashing through the shoulder blade, coming to rest somewhere between the fourth and fifth ribs. Most of the scars length was a clean surgical cut curving under his left arm, left by the field surgeon who had to retrieve the .223 bullet, although it had healed well it was still uncomfortable.
Boyd had been leading a section about to execute a hard arrest from an apartment block on the Kolola Pushta Road on the outskirts of Kabul, a local had seized the opportunity and took a hit and run shot from a second story building.
The shooter whoever they were, had spent too much time watching the amateur hour videos on the internet. The round that hit Boyd had been flattened, and badly cut to make it a dumdum. Fortunately, for Boyd, the bullet had lost most of its kinetic energy in transit. However, it was still able to smash into his shoulder. The bullet pieces now lived in a drawer still in the clear plastic specimen tube, given him by the surgeon who had cut it out just before they took him up the loading ramp of a C17 Globemaster and back to England. Want to know what happened next? Available on AMAZON as a paperback or kindle