...
Standing guard, such a familiar yet strange phrase. It seems like many, many years ago. When I was a soldier with acne and a naive smile, I stood guard in my unit. But back then, I approached the task with fervor, zeal, and lofty ideals.
In a blink of an eye, it seems to have been many years ago, so distant... so distant that it feels like I've experienced several centuries. It seems that I miss it quite much. Am I getting old? Do I miss the simplicity, sunshine, and clarity of the past? Or do I miss the people and things of past?
Uh, why are these colleagues looking at me in such a way? I'm just on guard duty, they can't possibly think I'd come across an armed militant charging in, do they?
Before Yves King could refuse, Bennett Hoffman, the commanding officer, gave a stern look to everyone, turned around and left, not concealing the contempt in his eyes for the dismissed security guards.
