jacob
No matter how many Christmas lights or stockings you hang or how many little Christmas trees you put up a bunker will never feel like Christmas.
No matter how many Christmas lights or stockings you hang or how many little Christmas trees you put up a bunker will never feel like Christmas.
The funny looks from my wife and the lack of morning traffic on the way to work should have clued me in, but it wasn't until I saw the empty parking out that I realized it was Saturday.
My brother left Iraq with one leg, severe PTSD, and a heroin addiction.
I'll listen to you and sympathize about missing your husband, but don't complain to me about a long time.
As I walked away from the airport alone with my head held high, shoulders back, and eyes red from crying, I finally knew what it meant to be a military wife.
I went to college to dodge this war, and now I'm going to war to pay for college.
As the Senior Drill Instructor howled corrections at me for the umpteenth time that morning I tried to remember if my recruiter mentioned any of this when we talked about me going to college and letting Uncle Sam pay for it.
I have suicidal thoughts almost daily, but I don't do anything about them because I've only got two months left in the Marine Corps, and I'm hoping that's the problem.
Since my man joined the military, I smile at anyone in a uniform.
And so, seven hours before going to VietNam, I went to jail instead for smoking weed grown from seed smuggled back from VietNam.