Thoughts on Life as a Short-Timer

Time to go home is gaining on me, I am short...not quite short enough to waltz under a snake's belly wearing a top hat, but too short to ride the really fun roller coasters. Quite a few soldiers have been added to the memoriam wall since I left for vacation, and a few since I have returned. When I came to this place, I was full of energy to train a new army, shove democracy down a bunch of peoples' throats, and protect the safety of the innocent. Now, I just want to go home, more than anything in the world I want to go. THe Army is the only service left doing one year tours, and they don't plan on changing it. Such a terrible decision. After nine months in theater, your situational awareness plummets. The soldiers are focused on going home, the command is focused on making sure they get their bronze and silver stars, and having formations, and making ever more silly rules so the men will get acclimated to a garrison life again, that no one is paying attention anymore to the blood running in the streets. I feel like I am 65 years old, and in need of a doctor's visit.