I tell everybody who will listen that:
I feel like such a slug tonight. I am sitting here in my confortable apartment, and I know some soldier with a family is freezing his ass off on the perimeter in some god forsaken camp. I should be there!
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Because of my knees and that I took medication barring me from re-enlisting, I cannot go back in.
I feel uncomfortable every year, because I am a nonhacking slimeball, and I got rewarded with a cushy civilian life, while a man in my place with two babies and a lonely wife is one of 160 men on 100% guard in BFE, feeling the icy wind blow across his face, but he doesn't feel it. He long ago grew numb to it, but shivers anyway, watching the darkness for the next attack, listening for anything out of the ordinary. He knows the next incoming could have his name on it. He knows that if that should happen, his children will never know their daddy, or what a real man he was. He is wondering when somebody will bring midnight chow, but it really doesn't matter. He has time.
He went anyway. He heard the bugle's call to him, and he answered. The danger signs for his country outweighed his love for his family. He selflessly shoulders his rifle, and waits, and watches.
And because of that, a young Corporal is on the perimeter tonight, in my place.
Whoever you are, I love you, and I am sorry you are in my place. I should be there, not you!
[USA]