I went on a detachment out there in late July 1978, and when the door to the C130 we flew out on opened up, it was as if someone had turned on a giant hair dryer and was pointing it right up the ramp.
My best friend (buddy system) who got sent to California, came out on his motorcycle to visit me while I was out there, and it was so hot, all we did was stay in his motel room, drink, and just catch up with what was going on.
At one point, I wanted to run across the street to a Taco Bell (IIRC) so I opened the door, ran out into the road, got about a quarter way across, and my bare feet felt like they had burst into flames! Talk about stupid, I didn’t even think about it, but I can tell you, I ran back to my room and put my feet in the bathtub!
It sure does get hot out there in July!
It’s even worse in August.
As youngsters, my wife and her sisters would fry eggs on the sidewalk in July. (In Phoenix) Yuma is hotter!