[ WP ] Write a soldier 's journal entry on his first day at war . Then write his last journal entry .

March 3 2015 
 Back in Afghanistan. Well, not me, personally, but us. The crunchies are all hooah, thinking we'll make a difference this time, or just wanting to shoot something. Not us. We're the black helicopters over these people's heads. Over their homes. Massive, buzzing beetles that they've grown up fearing, knowing they hold death as surely as the terrorists surrounding them. Death above. Death all around. Undeground must be safe. Buried would be the only place left, but I suppose that's not really safe from death either. 
 
 I pity these people. So little to look forward to day after day, year after year. They say we're heroes. That we join to make a difference. I know that's a lie. I joined for a steady paycheck. Jack joined to play with big guns. Who knows? Maybe in nine months I'll find something in this place worth fighting for. Maybe I'll find something in this place worth missing. 
 
 December 10, 2015 
 
 Home. Fuck the sand. I'm burning this book. No man left behind? Bullshit. And I do n't think I need a dirty scrap of paper to remember them.
