Journal A Career Man

Journal, A Career Man — Alistair


I'm not sure what bothers me more. Whether it is the fact that I have grown into a capable soldier, or that I have come to consider a career in this. My duties are numerous, especially in the midst of combat. When others become wounded I must leave the relative safety of wherever I am to move across hostile and treacherous battleground to tend to them. Bring men back from the brink of death so that they may live to fight on. And yet, first and foremost, I have been treated as a rifleman. Put on the front lines to fight, almost as though whoever is commanding me is unaware of my responsibility to the soldiers.

And yet I've become /good/ at it. It hasn't broken me; though it's come damn near a few times. I've been through the worst of hell and emerged whole. Granted this bloody business is not yet over. Should I survive, I am considering a career in the military under the service of her majesty. I could see myself a career man, a professional soldier. Each and every day that I do not expire I become stronger, better in some way.

The worst of it has yet to come, I know. Given my regular tasks I may yet find myself amongst the dead. But for now I am alive, and I have only myself and the men beside me to thank. Now, more than ever, I am determined to live through this and see tomorrow. So that the next generations may know of my fruitless struggles. Perhaps so that wars like these never occur again.

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