History lessons...

What the two of you may or may not know about me is that I have an extensive military service record...

Korea?
4 tours...

Cuban Missile Crisis
I was there...

Vietnam?
2 tours...

Desert Storm?
In the building...

Somalia?
Damn skrate...

Serbia/Kosovo?
I had retired, but was called in on a special force to kick some ass without even having to take names...

Afghanistan/Iraq 2.0?
Ufck that, I refused...


The most fond of my four tours of Korea would have to be the last one... Summer 1952, two weeks prior to my negative 47th birthday, I invented a method with which our defenses were so impregnable, even in the cover of night and sometimes rain, that the war would shift in our favor until 1953's cease fire.

The Cuban Missile Crisis was a weird one for me, I bumped into a claimed-claivoyant lady named Sanchez, whose first name I have since forgotten who used to tell me all kinds of random facts about my future romantic endeavors.
At the time, given my very young age of negative 17 and my persistent PTSD I thought the lady to be quite odd and out of place, but I listened nonetheless and I think my future (now present) is better for it.

Man, Vietnam was some OTHER isht, I still have flashbacks to this one the most.
I worked on fire/rescue, we were specially trained to save babies from burning orphanages, but never to question exactly what caused the burning of the orphange. We had to do this, even if the orphanage was burning in the midst of a torrential downpour, still with the charlies in the trees shooting at us.
My PTSD was a permanent condition after this one, from age negative 4 through now.
So extreme was it that I would often spend mornings talking to imaginary friends that I could not even think to name. When confronted about it, I would scream some unintelligible isht and I was eventually taken captive, and shipped to Guantanamo Bay as a terrorist, for 6 years, where I wrote the original Transformers and Voltron series, but my idea was stolen by some dude who I THOUGHT I was simply transcribing to, but escaped without me one day. The rest is history.

At age 11, I flew Blackhawks in Operation Desert Storm.
Luckily, that war only lasted 6 weeks, of which I was only called out of retirement for 2 of.

Somalia was crazy as hell... I would like to say that I remembered every minute of it, but lucky for the two of you, they made a documentary film about my going in to kick ass and take names to get my fellow soldiers out.

I was so against the actions of Serbia/Kosovo that I vowed I would never be drawn out of my retirement, even after a 68-year military career that spanned some four decades I was technically not even alive for.
Yes, at the ripe age of 20, I hung em up.

I was called to participate in Operation Iraqi Ufck Em Freedom, but I never returned the voicemail and never will.


Through it all, I have seen a great much of the world, as you can read this takes place in the face of seemed possibility, but this is my daydream blog and not yours, so don't question or judge me.
If I could find that lady in Cuba who predicted my romantic futures, including the experiences that tempered me for my appreciation of my current situation, I would thank her. I will use this space here to do so.
I would like to thank the military in general for allowing me to work as a special operative for all this time without committing to a specific branch or even requiring I go through basic training. My only issue has been the onset and continued harrowing case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which prevents me from living an normal life, what with the flashbacks and everything. I usually Kirk the ufck out in a Chinese restaurant or passing a nail salon. Katie often apologizes when I grab someone and hold them "until my unit returns," and shows them my documentation to avoid me being arrested.
Those flashbacks are also why I had to quit Karate when I was 13.
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