I met a lot of guys during my enlistment. Really great guys, and real complete douche bags. There was one kid that I met named Jack Fullred (not real name). Jack was just an absolute, sweetheart, that I would bum, smokes from, and he would bum smokes for me. We would go down to the brothels, and he would buy money for me, and the next trip I would buy money from him. We served together in the early 90s. I still talk to Jack now. After all of these years, I never lost what he meant to me back then. There’s a few kids that were in my platoon in the early 90s in Panama that I speak to regularly and I hope to God that I never lose track of them. They are the most beautiful, sincere and genuine people that I’ve ever met. And I am so happy that I was able to spend that time with them. In my most honest moments, when it’s just me and my thoughts, and may be a little bit of alcohol, I remember those guys. I remember how happy I was back then. I don’t believe in heaven, and I don’t believe in hell. I don’t believe in punishment and reward. But God dammit, when I die, I want to be back there, back, then, for just a few seconds. I want to be that kid. I want to smell the smells, and hear the sounds, and breathe the air that I miss so much. I deserve it.