A window into the warrior subculture, via a bit of formal philosophy
Sec Nav Mabus is a Dickless Politician
This article is the first of a three-piece series. Take a look into the window of US diplomacy, its unqualified players, and an unfiltered narrative from one of their former security specialists.
The question blew my mind, and still does. At twenty years old, having just gone to war, lost friends, and come back, it absolutely astounded me that adults in my own country did not know where we were fighting a very publicized war.
We did our tours, buried friends and enemies, achieved rank, forged reputations among our fellow warriors, and finally, when all the bureaucracy got to be too much for us, we got out. We excitedly raised up our DD-214’s, grabbed our nuts, stuck our tongues out, and flipped a bird to “the Man.” We were going to make something of ourselves.
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, “Wow! What a Ride!”
Well, it’s a new year. Welcome to 2015. This is the year we were supposed to have flying cars and hover boards. Color me disappointed.
Tuesday, September 11, 2001 started out like any other clear, crisp, late summer morning. That is until 0846 when the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center and began a chain of events that would become the longest day for many of us.
I had what every man envied, a wife that made life meaningful. Beautiful. Caring. Funny. Since the day she first caught my eye, I thought of her constantly - I still do. I could laugh with her over anything. Her smile could crush me and heal me in the same instant. We made fun of each other and told one another things no transitory couple would (or could).