In the evening, the sky over Mosul was dyed with a rusty orange-red hue.
Just arrived at the Tenth Division camp, Song Heping made his way to the warehouse without delay.
He pushed open the heavy iron door of the warehouse, greeted by a unique smell mixed with lubricating oil and dust.
Samir walked beside him, holding a high-powered flashlight, its beam cutting through the dim space of the warehouse.
"Look here." Samir's voice echoed in the warehouse.
The flashlight beam swept over rows of neatly stacked wooden crates, with faded English markings printed on them.
Song Heping approached, reaching out to wipe the dust off one of the crates.
"Loitering munition, brand new and unopened." He read the text in English, his voice devoid of emotion.
