We had a formation at 0700 today. Not much to look at - around 15 of us standing in the dirt with our rifles, getting ready to start the day's classes.
The company commander took charge of the formation, put us at ease, and started to talk. He reminded us of the date which, I'm ashamed to say, had slipped some of our minds.
That day, that attack, all our dead countrymen, he reminded us. That moment, that morning, was why we were standing in a formation, preparing, saddling up again. Ours not to wonder at the method, but to apply ourselved to our appointed tasks in response to that day.
Then the mood lifted, and we promoted a PV2 to Private First Class. E-2 to E-3. The PFC is 19. He was 12 when those buildings came down.
The difference between sixth grade and a soldier. That makes it seem like a long time. It doesn't feel that way to me.
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