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"Army Barracks" I laid in my bunk, staring up at the wooden bottom of the bunk above me. It was mid-day, and I was alone -- and bored. The summer's heat offered no quarter, and I was its prisoner. My eyes focused on the grains of the rough wood above me; the private who normally occupied the bunk was in the mess hall. For the first time -- maybe because it was daylight -- I could see that the markings in the wood were names. I sat up, nearly hitting my head -- I recognized these names! I thought of all of these soldiers who had come before me, and who had gone on to either memorable and illustrious careers here in our King's army, or who had gone to meet the gods early. My hand touched the one directly above me: she was a private who had enlisted with my sister. As my fingers traced her name, I thought of her sacrifice. She had given her life in battle to save her brothers and sisters in arms. Did she know when she woke up in this bunk that day that it would be her last day? Did she know that she had the bravery and courage in her to exchange her life so that others could live? Then I thought: Do *I* have the courage to do something like that? How strong are my convictions? I sat up further and found another name: this was a general, and the name was faded. I had to smile. This man was in the army with my father, and my father used to tell me stories of how the general -- then a private -- would ask him to sneak out at night with him after the barracks had shut down, in order to explore the city and get into some mischief. "You remind me of an old friend," my father had told me before I enlisted. Despite his initial mischievousness, this man had exhibited a shrewd capability for strategy, proving himself first as a soldier and then as an officer. Now, he has our King's ear and advises on our defense policies. The lesson was clear to me: we all have the potential for greatness in us, and discipline and service can unlock this. As I thought about this, my eyes turned to the bunk's wooden support post -- and I smiled here, too, at what I saw: it was the name of a prince who enlisted in order to serve both his family and his country. Here, he learned first-hand the values of leadership and camaraderie. All of this, right here in these barracks. Amazing. The sun's rays shone in my eyes. Sleepiness battled my newfound inspiration. And then I heard the boots approaching. I scrambled out of bed and grabbed the broom that had fallen to the floor, my armor squeaking from the quick effort. I furrowed my brow and began sweeping, as though I was deeply focused on my task. Dust clouds rose. My sergeant entered the room. I saluted her and stood at attention. She surveyed my work and looked me over: "Good work, Private. You won't be falling asleep at your post anymore, will you?" "No, sergeant." I said. I meant it, too. My sergeant nodded after a moment. "Good. Sweep the other barracks, just to make sure." She smiled and left. What can I say? I deserved that. As the dust around me settled, I thought for a moment. Then I reached for my spear and sat back on my bunk -- but only for a moment this time. With the spear's tip as my quill and the sun's light as my guide, I carved my own name into the bottom of the bunk... ... and then I got back to work. -Connacht | |