20 Oct 14
I lay on a pile of cow crap and nettles, peering uselessly through weeds growing on a wire fence. I am unable to see more than 12 feet into an open field. Prone, my neck and shoulders hurt as I crane hoping to see far enough so that I can have some warning of advancing forces. I am sweating out buckets, soaking my Battle Dress Uniform (BDU), boonie hat and underwear as thoroughly as if I had been caught in a thunderstorm. My neck is developing a sunburn because, like an idiot, I failed to put sunblock into my kit. Baking in the sun, unable to see anything, feeling hot, bored and useless, I remember why I left the Army . . .
A Well Regulated Militia
An excellent article written in the TruthAboutGuns.com website, by Tim McNabb on July 19, 2014.
I lay on a pile of cow crap and nettles, peering uselessly through weeds growing on a wire fence. I am unable to see more than 12 feet into an open field. Prone, my neck and shoulders hurt as I crane hoping to see far enough so that I can have some warning of advancing forces. I am sweating out buckets, soaking my Battle Dress Uniform (BDU), boonie hat and underwear as thoroughly as if I had been caught in a thunderstorm. My neck is developing a sunburn because, like an idiot, I failed to put sunblock into my kit. Baking in the sun, unable to see anything, feeling hot, bored and useless, I remember why I left the Army . . .