Journal Entry
I can accept the bad food. I can accept the harsh climate. I can accept sleeping on the ground. I can accept the drab clothes. I can even accept the fact I may die with a foot of steel in my gut. All of that comes with the military lifestyle. If you want to dance, you have to pay the fiddler.
What I am having trouble accepting is the very nature of this conflict. Facing a blade is one thing. Having the very ground try to swallow you whole is quite another. In che cosa mi sono entrato? (What have I gotten myself into?)
P.S. I was so glad to see her somewhat whole of mind and body. As long as I have her, I can face just about anything.