and so they marched away leaving only their legacy

there is a feeling you get when you're all dressed up in ceremonial uniform and marching out on the last parade you'll ever particiapte in with all the people who've gone through hell and back with you. there is a certain straightness to your back, a certain tilt of your head.

ord lo.

time truly flies. unfortunately it only does so on hindsight. when you're living it it crawls by second by second like a snail with muscular dystrophy (did i spell that right?). however this only serves to make all that went on before even more memorable. it seems only a blink of an eye from the time we were mere recruits, crawling around in urine soaked mud or having eveything in our cupboards emptied out into a bag and high kneeling with that bag over our heads. an instant from the cold, wet and miserable times in brunei. the grueling, neverending feeling of 72 km route march. the sheer torture of 5 km SOC.

the sheer, unadulterated pride of standing in the pouring rain and receiving my red beret and stilleto knife.