I cried myself to sleep that night. I feared the unknown. My Dad told me you can't fear things that you have never experienced. My mind was racing. I can say now that fear binds no man to do what is just.
Fear finds the most vulnerable part of a man, where every memory treasured is disfigured.
In war, of all the faculties of the mind, memory is the first to flourish and the first to die. A dark memory is like a dark cloud, unable to guide a man home. Experience taught me that there is no fear in God. The distance between me and my maker was created by the fear of a man. If my memory is the diary that chronicles what I have done, it will play an old tune on the hearts of my teammates.